


this love is bigger than us

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Denmark, you get tested for the carrier gene before you can enter the higher sports. When he tested positive he spent a good chunk of his life figuring out ways around it, and thankfully due to his own skill and a few laws in place he was allowed to make it to the bigs. He had never told anyone, not even Oliver, that he was a carrier. He'd almost forgotten about it himself until, of course, it became an issue. </p><p>Now his whole life has changed and he has to make all new choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love is bigger than us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sly_fck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Big Poppa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241068) by [sly_fck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/pseuds/sly_fck). 



> You need to read the accompanying fic by sly_fck for this to make sense. It should be linked! I think you could read it either way, but hers is amaze-balls, so check it out.

For the third game in a row, Mikkel came off the ice feeling like he’d just played all sixty minutes, rather than the seven he had. He was sweatier than usual, exhausted, thirsty, and worst of all _itchy_. It was like every inch of his skin was covered in itching powder, and he swore if it was some lame prank Ollie was playing, he was going to have a complete breakdown. 

Though Ollie wasn’t exactly talking to him; hadn’t in fact in the two weeks since they’d had a fight over … something. He couldn’t really remember. Just that at the moment it felt very important and then Ollie just shut down. Closed the door to his bedroom and had not talked to him since.

It was their code, on the road and at home that if the door was open, well. The door was open for a reason. It hadn’t actually been closed in so long, that it felt weird when he automatically opened the joining doors in hotel rooms to find the other side shut.

He stripped down slower than normal, feeling a little like he was walking through water. By the time that he got down to just his boxers, he was trying not to scratch too hard. Just in case this was some prank from someone, they didn’t deserve the satisfaction. 

His skin wasn’t red, or even puffy, which usually accompanied the powder, but he shook it off and headed towards the showers. Showers help, right? 

Only no. He stepped under the water and it felt like every beat of water was attacking him, too hot and too sudden and _oh god_ his nipples. It was like they were dipped in fire ants. 

“Fan!” he cursed, just as Connor Murphy walked by. 

Murphs looked at him funnily. “You okay, dude?” 

“This water is too hot. Am I near the boiler? What the hell?” 

Murphy put his hand out and felt the water, giving him an even more confused look. “It’s the same temp as everyone else’s. Seriously, you okay?” 

Mikkel adjusted the water temp fractionally, turning it down enough for him to go under the spray Though now it felt a little too cold. Better than the searing heat of a moment before. He shrugged. “Yeah. Fine. Thanks.” 

With a shrug he kept walking and left Mikkel by himself. Mikkel’s nipples still felt way too sensitive with the touch of the water, so he turned the tap in the opposite direction and scrubbed down as fast as possible; gingerly covering his chest in two quick movements. 

He walked back into the locker room to see the usual scrum of interviewers. They’d won, so it was a little fuller than usual, focusing on the goal scorers, Max and Oliver. It wasn’t unusual to see, but Mikkel felt achy to know that he wasn’t going to get to tease Oliver after they were done. He would have to drive home in his own stupid car by himself, listening to his own music and not mocking Oliver’s bad taste in music. 

After toweling off, again gingerly, he sat down and put his clothes on, still fighting that feeling of exhaustion that was hard to shake. He’d just put his pants on and stood to pull them up when the room went a little tilted and his vision tightened to a small white circle in front of him. 

“Boeds?” 

He tried to turn his head to see who was asking him but couldn’t get it to move fast enough. He felt the bench hit his ass, even though he didn’t remember going to sit down. 

“BOEDS.” 

Vermette. It was Antoine. The face was there, just a few inches from his and a hand on the back of his head. He blinked. His vision was returning slightly. Vermette called something else out, over the top of his head, but he didn’t catch it. Something cool hit his hands and then a water bottle was being pushed to his lips. 

No, too sweet for water. Gatorade. He took a sip, so so so sweet. He wanted to spit it out. But he swallowed, because Antoine looked worried. And then… Oliver? Oliver was right there. He closed his eyes. 

“No don’t do that,” Oliver’s voice called. “Open the eyes, Meeks.” 

He made them open and blinked. Swallowing a little more of the Gatorade they forced at him. 

“Ugh,” he muttered. “Too sweet.” 

Oliver, who’d had a crease in between his eyes, seemed to relax a little. “I know, you prefer it watered down. Pussy.” 

Someone else had arrived. He felt Oliver move a little to the side and the air in the room seemed to be cooling down. His focus was coming back, and most importantly, or not, Oliver’s hand was on his lower back. 

“Hey, Mr. Boedker,” the EMT said, blinking a light in his eyes. 

“B _oo_ ker,” Oliver corrected him automatically. Mikkel’s brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders but he cracked a smile. 

“Can you follow the light with your eyes,” the EMT asked, ignoring everyone else. He did so, or at least did his best. Vermette was forcing another sip on him, and he cringed at the taste. “Can you describe how you feel?” 

He exhaled, the sudden weight of embarrassment crashing down on him hard. He looked around to see all of his teammates, the coaching staff, and media staring at him from various points in the room. “I … got dizzy. I stood up too fast. I’m fine.” 

“You went as white as a ghost,” Antoine said, his voice concerned. “You looked like you were going to fall over.” 

“Maybe my blood sugar was low, I didn’t eat much before the game. Too tired and nothing looked good,” Mikkel admitted. He could feel the warmth spreading from where Oliver had his hand, but Oliver’s hand squeezed into a ball. 

“You didn’t eat?” he asked, low and in Swedish. 

Mikkel looked over at him. “I wasn’t hungry. I figured I’d eaten too much at lunch.” 

The EMT brought his attention back to him by squeezing his thigh. “I think we’re going to take you into the medical area to just make sure. Better safe than sorry.” 

Normally Mikkel would say something like, “No, thank you.” or “I’m fine, leave me alone.” But he’d been a little gun shy since his spleen accident and even more so since he’d been feeling off a few days. Maybe it was just some sort of viral thing or a cold coming on. Better to know now than to find out on their upcoming road trip. 

The guy took him by the hand, and with every bone in his body he hoped that the media was not taking pictures of this (even if he was relatively sure they were). They walked out of the room and into the blessedly empty office that led to the area meant for trainers and medstaff. 

Jason was doing some basic stretches with Hanzal, but as soon as he caught sight of Mikkel he stopped. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I got dizzy, no big deal.” Mikkel shrugged, forcibly being sat on the edge of a massage table. “I probably stood up too fast.” 

From behind him he heard the door open and somehow knew without looking who it was. “He said he didn’t eat. And Vermy said he was pale like ghost.” 

Of course he finally gets to hear Oliver speak about him and it’s to rat him out to their freaking medical staff. That was exactly what he had spent the last two weeks hoping for. He turned toward him and glared. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t eat at all, I just… wasn’t entirely hungry. I had two peanut butter sandwiches.” 

“Peanut butter? You hate that.” 

Mikkel looked back at the EMT and the trainer. “Look, I wasn’t hungry so I ate what sounded good. Apparently it wasn’t enough. My blood sugar must have gone wonky and now I’m fine. Okay?” 

The EMT flashed another light in his eyes and Jason frowned at him. “Have you been sleeping, you look worn down.” 

“I’ve been sleeping well, actually,” he conceded. “Still tired.” 

He caught sight of Oliver hovering just outside of where the two men were looking him over like a science experiment. He kind of wanted to just fade away, the attention suddenly making him feel three inches tall. 

“It could be an iron deficiency,” The EMT offered to Jason. 

Jason hummed. “Or he could just have a bug starting.” 

“Either way, we should take some blood and run a panel. We don’t want to run any risks. Especially without the spleen.” 

Mikkel wanted to point out that it had been over a year and the chances of him catching an infection based off of the incident were slim to none but the fact that neither of the men looked to care what he was saying and Oliver was death glaring him hard made him keep his mouth shut. Even if getting blood drawn was possibly his least favorite thing to do. 

The EMT walked off to get a kit and, as if he mentally summoned him, Oliver walked over and stood near him. Near enough that their knuckles brushed and he could feel the warmth, near enough that he wasn’t quite as scared as he would have been without. 

“We’ll run a full panel,” the EMT told him, sticking a needle in his arm with little warning. He lifted the hand near Olivers and gripped hard onto the tips of Oliver’s fingers. “Just to make sure we aren’t missing anything.” 

“Is there anything we can do until the results come back? Should he sit out practice or games?” 

Mikkel almost stood up at Oliver’s questions. Sit out games? He just had a dizzy spell, and what was with this WE all of a sudden? That morning he wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. 

“No, no, he should be fine. This is just precautionary. I would be sure to eat better, Mr. Boedker. Even if you don’t feel hungry. Protein and carbohydrates. And sleep more, if you’re body is telling you to do so, it probably means you should.” 

Mikkel nodded but Oliver responded. “He will.” 

Finished with the blood pull, the EMT gave him some juice and told him to wait a minute before he left, just in case. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mikkel switched to Swedish. 

“What the hell, Oliver? You are not my keeper,” he seethed. “I can take care of myself.” 

“You almost passed out,” Oliver countered. “Besides I am just trying to be helpful.” 

Mikkel sipped at his juice and tried not to brood. “You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll leave in five minutes. Go home.” 

“You think you’re driving home after this?” 

“ _Yes_.” 

Oliver gawked. “No. We can take your car or mine but we are only taking one.” 

From the table nearby Martin looked them both over. “Everything okay boys?” 

“Just fine,” Mikkel answered, aware of the obvious lie. “Debating driving strategies.” 

“Well, you probably shouldn’t drive, not if you almost blacked out,” Hanzal threw in. 

Oliver pointed at him with a giddy smile. “See, Marty agrees with me. We’ll take my car.” 

“We’ll take _my_ car,” Mikkel said, conceding the point of having to share a car. Oliver shrugged and waited for Mikkel to finish his juice.

When he finished he stood up, slowly, and with Oliver's arm at his elbow which was only slightly embarrassing. He felt, honestly, completely fine. Still exhausted. Still itchy. But nothing he'd write home about, and definitely not something he'd tell the people who were hovering over him about. Oliver was still not completely dressed, still had his shoes in the main room and Mikkel had to grab his bag so they separated for a moment in the locker room. Mikkel didn't think of bolting, much. Except even if he did, he would still end up at the same place that Oliver was going so what was the point really. 

He noticed that the room had cleared out a lot faster than it usually did, at least of reporters. He knew that was probably his fault as well, but come ON he’d just felt a little faint. Though the more he looked at Vermette, who couldn’t keep himself from staring at him, the more it felt like something else. 

“Vermy, I’m fine,” he said, his voice as low and calm as he could make it. “They just took some blood. They gave me OJ, it’s just blood sugar, I promise you.” 

Vermette side eyed him hard. “You went really pale, Mikkel. Very very pale.” 

“And?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing.” 

Shane walked over with his fake captain smile on. “Hey, just talked to the trainer.” 

“‘Food and sleep,’” Mikkel mimicked the voice of Jason. “I got it.” 

Shane nodded at him, turning to Oliver. “You got that Harry?” 

Oliver, who was making his way to them, nodded like he’d just been given the rules to hockey for the very first time. “Yes sir.” 

“Guys, what the hell? I’m _fine_.” 

Vermette, Doan and Oliver all stared him down and Oliver was the one to break it with one simple word. “ _Winnipeg._ ” 

“Fuck,” he muttered and tried to joke. “Guys, I only have one spleen to rupture.”

No one seemed to find it funny. He sighed heavily. He knew it’d been stressful for the team but it was a little annoying that he was being treated like glass a year later. He slung his bag over one shoulder and looked down. 

“Ready Oliver?” 

*

The car ride home is tense, even more so when Oliver automatically shuts off the radio as soon as he sits in the front seat. He called it distracting but Mikkel knows better, it’s a power play. Some way to take back the fact that Oliver had given up his car to drive Mikkel’s. 

Mikkel stared out his window and just ignored the thick air between them. He put his hand up and waved it in front of his AC. It was at the coldest but he still felt like he was burning up. He took off the outer jacket he was wearing and shifted uncomfortably, itching at his forearms and then his upper arms. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m _itchy_ ,” Mikkel frowned. He scratched at his belly and his sides. Nothing was really satisfying but not doing so was somehow worse. Oliver was looking at him like he was certifiable. “Eyes on the road Ekman-Larsson.” 

Oliver exhaled, “Do do you want to stop somewhere and get food? I’m sure the trainers would approve of a McDonald’s binge or even In and Out, considering the circumstances.” 

He barely resisted the urge to heave at how unappealing that sounded. “We have food at home. Can we just go there?” 

“Come on, we can stop by Sonic’s. Cheese tots,” Oliver almost sing songed, but all it did was make the rising of the bile in the back of his throat worst. He rolled the window down a little, letting the cool air rush across his face. He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly, repeating the process until the concept of food didn’t quite make him as ill as it did in that moment. “Mikkel?” 

He turned his head, maybe a little too fast. “Mmm?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Breathing,” he said. He could feel hear the weird tone of his own voice so he tried to shrug everything off. “Just wanted to… the air is cool. Look. Can you just take us home?” 

Oliver glared at him. “You need to eat.” 

“We have a kitchen, Ollie. I can feed myself.”

“Look, what do you want? I’ll get it. I’ll make it.”

Mikkel seriously debated making up something that was impossible for Oliver to get just to annoy him but he was just so freaking tired and he knew he was just getting petty. He exhaled. He said the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Pizza? From Humble Pie. WIth the egg on it.” 

“Ohhhhkay,” Oliver hit the button on his phone and made the call, adding an extra veggie salad and some fries for himself. Mikkel laid his head back and closed his eyes, he tried his best to focus on the feeling of the cool air coming in from the window and the way the music played in the background. 

He was feeling a lot better, a lot less like he was going to open the window and upchuck all the contents of his stomach out the window. The air felt good against his warm face, but it made the rest of his body shudder and he felt his nipples harden in an uncomfortable manner.

He tried to cross his arms over his chest inconspicuously but as soon as any pressure hit them he made a groan that even he could admit was almost from a porno. It just felt… _good_. Tender and a little bit like his shirt was made of worn down sandpaper but not in a bad way. 

He did it again and there it was, that feeling, that moan. He bucked unconsciously. 

“Are you okay?” Oliver said, his voice cracking on the second syllable of ‘okay’.

Mikkel blinked and turned, remembering suddenly he was not alone in the car. He felt himself go flushed with red. He put his arms down and locked them to his side. “The air is cold. I’m... Yeah. Too cold.” 

Oliver had his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, looking dead ahead. They could see the Humble Pie from the street so when Oliver got out to get the food Mikkel covered his face with both hands and sighed loudly. 

“Good job, Boedker,” he jerked his head back to thump it on the headrest a few times. He was _golden_. First he passed out, then nearly threw up, and finally practically humped the air in his car due to hard nipples. His night was going just the way he wanted it to go. 

He checked his phone to distract himself and found a text from pretty much every member of the team, including three from Shane, checking in on him. He sent out a mass text saying that he was fine and that everything was fine but doubted that would end there. Stupid spleen. He was basically a china doll to them. 

“Here, you hold them,” Oliver said, handing them over and onto his lap as he got back in the front seat. “Are you… uh. Warmed up?” 

Mikkel rolled his head back, partially to avoid looking at Oliver and partially because the scent was a little more intense than he was prepared for. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” 

They were maybe a three minute drive home but it felt pretty much like the longest ride that he could think of. The food was hot on his lap, his dick hard from the sudden attack of feeling in his nipples. The scent was everywhere in the car, not nauseating exactly, just so freaking _thick_ that he felt like he could taste every flavor in his mouth. 

And Oliver was. not. talking. At all. His hands were on the steering wheel like he was taking his driver’s test all over again. His eyes firm on the road ahead. He made his way through the roads that lead them to their house, well Oliver’s house. That Mikkel just stayed at. 

They got home, thankfully, and walked into the kitchen where Mikkel put the bags and box on the table taking a few steps away to give his nose a break. 

“You don’t look so good,” Oliver said, and he felt a hand on his back yet again. He wanted to move, but leant into it instead. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

His voice was so low and tender, it was no wonder how easily Mikkel had fallen for him. He turned his head and caught the scent of Oliver’s aftershave. In his defense, he did not lean back and purr like a cat, even though he really really wanted to. 

“I don’t know. Just… really tired. And sore,” he said, his voice the same low pitch. 

Oliver hummed. “I thought you were avoiding me in your room, but you really were just sleeping, weren’t you?” 

Well, he’d slightly been avoiding him, but that didn’t need to be said. Instead he shrugged. “It’s been a long week.” 

“Well, how about we eat and go to bed early?”`

It was sad how much the idea of just curling up in bed with Oliver to go to sleep felt like the best kind of night he could imagine but he ignored that embarrassment and sat down at the table to open the pizza box.

“You know, we’ve got plates,” Oliver teased but Mikkel ignored him. As soon as the first bite of pizza hit his lips, all of the lack of hunger evaporated and suddenly he was famished. He ate the first slice in three bites, folded it over and just shoved it back. He was about to start the second one when Oliver put a hand out. “Water, first a sip of water.” 

Mikkel took a gulp, it was cold and amazing and … wow. He was just hungry. The second bite went in the same fashion, and the third. All with gulps of water in between. By the time he’d finished, sopping up the egg with his left over crust he was staring longingly at the large container of fries that Oliver had in front of him. 

Oliver had basically picked at his salad while staring at Mikkel as he plowed down his pizza, pushed the white box towards him. He hummed happily, as he took the first bite. It was like he had been wanting the fries all day long and he didn’t even know it. Mikkel ignored the way he was being looked at, because fuck it. He was enjoying this moment. 

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Oliver stared him down. 

Mikkel shrugged and talked with his mouth full. “I’m feeling better. I told you that it wasn’t bad.” 

Oliver ate more of his salad, slowly chewing whereas Mikkel plowed through the fries like he had a time limit. His stomach felt perpetually empty. He finished off the white container in minutes and then just at there and stared at it like it had wronged him. Which it had. How dare it have a limit. 

When Oliver finished the salad he took the containers and threw them away. Rarely did they take the time to cook at home. (Though sometimes it was a nice change, a kottballer always was a treat.) 

Oliver came back to his seat and looked Mikkel in the eyes. “I’m sorry about the last two weeks, Meeks.” 

“Why, whatever do you mean?” 

“Come on,” Oliver rolled his eyes. “I had a point. We aren’t coming out anytime soon, it’s just logical to not move as fast as we have been.” 

The sudden memory of the fight flushed over him. The yelling, the insistency of keeping everything on the down low. He balled his hands up at his side. “I’m not asking us to do a cover shoot for ‘Out Magazine’, Oliver. It’s been _years_. I just think it’s time we tell _some_ of our teammates.” 

“And I’m saying it’s a snowball effect, one tells another and suddenly the whole…” 

He felt his blood pressure rise. “Can we not fight right now?”

Oliver exhaled. “Of course, of course. That was the whole thing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put distance between us. I’ve… missed you. I just want you to know, if that’s part of the problem, that you don’t have to really consider it so. We’re good. We’re really just working out some kinks.” 

“Okay,” Mikkel rolled his shoulders. “Let’s just table it for now. I’m tired, and full. We’ve got morning skate. How about heading to bed?” 

“Fine Meeks, whatever works for you.” 

Mikkel felt his jaw clench. What would work for him would be Oliver acting like it wasn’t a death sentence to tell the people they work with that they were together after living together for as long as they did. He pushed back from the table and sighed. It was an uphill battle. He knew it. 

There was a part of him, a spiteful part, that thought about going to ‘his’ room just to prove a point but in all honestly he’d missed sleeping next to Oliver more than he’d care to admit. So he followed behind, making a pit stop for the toothbrush in the bathroom. 

They ran through their routine like the old pros they were. Changing their clothes, brushing teeth, washing faces, even taking the time to run some water over Oliver’s hair to make it _slightly _less slicked back. It was homey. It was perfect and it made a part of his chest ache like he held the grand canyon there. He got into his side of the bed, only bothering to check to see if one of the 25 messages and 3 missed calls were from his family. (They weren’t.)__

__He completely shut it off, a rarity._ _

__Oliver set the alarm, like he usually did. Neither of them really talked, but Mikkel turned around and spooned Oliver as was part of the ritual. He liked the feel of the rhythmic breathing that was Oliver. The slightly too heavy breathing that he had hated in the beginning but was now just another sign that he was where he was supposed to be._ _

__He cuddled Oliver as close as he could and Oliver made a purr of approval._ _

__“I missed this,” Oliver confessed, just above a whisper. “I almost went to your bed about a dozen times.”_ _

__Mikkel nuzzled his nose into the base of Oliver’s neck. It smelled absolutely amazing, so he inhaled again. “You could have come whenever you wanted. I figured the closed door wasn’t just literal.”_ _

__“I had a point, it’s a huge step.”_ _

__“Not. Talking. About. It.” Mikkel said, and sighed. “I want to just enjoy this for the moment.”_ _

__He could tell that Oliver’s sigh was only half because he was conceding but he would take it. It felt good to have him in his arms again. He let himself wrap around Oliver and took another deep breath and closed his eyes._ _

__“Night O.”_ _

__“Night Meeks.”_ _

__*_ _

__He woke the next morning with no Oliver on the other side of the bed. This was strange on many levels, not the least of which being that Oliver never ever got out of bed until he absolutely had to and by the look on the clock it was still a half hour before that point. But thinking back he did remember that they’d gotten to sleep two hours before they usually did and most adults didn’t require … ten hours of sleep. (How was he still tired?)_ _

__Rolling over he grabbed his phone and switched it on, placing it back on the side table as he shuffled to the bathroom to do the things that needed to get done. He relieved himself, brushed his teeth and washed his face with cold water, hoping that somehow he would wake up. It… kind of helped._ _

__His phone was lit up like Christmas, so many missed calls and messages that he felt like maybe he shouldn’t have turned it off. Maybe. He grabbed it and scrolled through, looking idly at the “Glad you’re okay!” messages from his teammates and the list of mandates from his Captain and Coach. (Typical.)_ _

__When he got to the missed calls his stomach dropped. There were six from the medical staff, all with messages accompanying them. That, was never ever a good sign. He went to the first one and hit “listen”._ _

__“Mikkel, my name is Dr. Hayley Watts, I work with the Coyotes. Your blood test has been sent over to our office this morning and I’d really like it if you could call me back. My number is…”_ _

__Mikkel routed rooted around his side table to find a pad of paper and pencil, jotting down the number just in case it wasn’t the one that had called him. He then proceeded to listen to the rest of the messages, all varying on the theme._ _

__He stared at the number with a mixture of horror and interest. He knew he wasn’t on illegal substances, so it left the very real possibility of a medical emergency. Before the spleen thing… well. He hadn’t had one of those. He didn’t know how to react._ _

__He’d been warned that, though the spleen was mostly unnecessary after a young age and then a week after surgery, there was a chance he could get the genuine possibility of an infection. But he didn’t feel like it was an infection, not like right after the surgery. He was tired, but not unable to function. He was nauseous, but only in short bursts._ _

__The phone began to ring again before he could make the decision to call back or not and he picked it up with trepidation._ _

__“Helllo?”_ _

__“Mr. Boedker?” A friendly female voice answered. “This is Dr. Watts, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. I need you to come in at your earliest convenience.”_ _

__Mikkel swallowed. “Anything you could share on the phone?”_ _

__“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Watts sighed. “We don’t divulge patient information over the phone. Discretion is kind of our thing.”_ _

__Mikkel looked at the clock beside the bed. “My par--roommate has morning skate in an hour or so. Is that soon enough?”_ _

__“Perfect! I’ll be at the arena.”_ _

__He slipped into a pair of jeans and shirt, not really bothering to comb his hair as he stumbled down to the kitchen. The closer he got the more the house smelled like… well. Like home. He sniffed carefully, almost afraid whatever revolt the idea of food from yesterday had started would come again but thankfully it didn’t. As he got closer the scent got stronger and better, eggs and toast and all the things that he loved. He swore he smelled sausage. It was amazing._ _

__Oliver was just setting up a plate when he walked in and Mikkel cocked his head to one side._ _

__“So, I died last night?”_ _

__“You’re hilarious,” Oliver tilted his head to a few boxes by the trash can. “I went up to the Good Egg. Now sit down, you are going to eat.”_ _

__Mikkel weighed the benefits of telling Oliver about the doctor’s appointment versus just enjoying the morning the way it was and crossed to the table with his mouth shut. The plate was covered, probably enough food for Oliver AND Mikkel AND a third person to eat and still be too full. Mikkel shrugged and started in on the sausage._ _

__“Good, don’t need food poisoning on top of whatever I had yesterday,” he teased, winking at Oliver playfully._ _

__Oliver cringed. “Swallow, man.”_ _

__He did. “That’s what you **always** say.”_ _

__He got a thwack to the back of his head. He probably deserved it._ _

__“See if I do anything nice for you ever again.” Oliver set a mug in front of him. “ I even made coffee.”_ _

__To say he was repulsed by it was a complete understatement. The smell was so strong that he felt like he’d just swallowed a wad of used grounds, his whole brain yelled at him to get the mug away from him. Move it. Move himself. He pushed his chair back._ _

__“Uh, Mikkel?”_ _

__“I’m. No, I’m good. No coffee,” he said, shaking his head and looking at the mug like it was about to force itself on him. “What the hell did you make that with?”_ _

__Oliver smelled the mug and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, taking a sip. “It’s the same type that you make almost every day, man. It tastes the same.”_ _

__Oliver tipped the mug at him and Mikkel’s eyes widened. He shook his head. “You made it wrong.”_ _

__“I did not,” he said, drinking more of the cup indignantly. “It tastes the same. What the hell man? It’s been like a week. The chef makes the same stuff.”_ _

__He didn’t mention he’d been avoiding the coffee there as well. Orange juice had just been tasting better. That’s the thing._ _

__“Do we have OJ?” he tried, getting up from the chair and heading to the fridge in hopes of avoiding any and all chance of a whiff._ _

__“If we have anything in that fridge I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. When was the last time that we went to the grocery store?”_ _

__Mikkel paused before he opened the fridge. Very valid point. He put his hands down and swallowed a few times before he could turn back around. “I’ll just drink water. I’m good.”_ _

__Oliver took both mugs and took them to the sink. Mikkel walked around it like he was waiting for a bomb to go off. When he sat back down and Oliver handed him a glass of water he took a few long sips._ _

__“Okay, Meeks,” Oliver stared him down. “What the fuck?”_ _

__Mikkel kept himself eating, this time much slower and sipping water whenever he could._ _

__“I don’t know,” he muttered, finally, looking at the plate of food. “But a specialist will be at the arena when we get there.”_ _

__Oliver stood up. “Are you kidding me? When were you going to tell me?”_ _

__“I’ve had about twenty more minutes than you to think about this. It’s not that big of a deal. We’ve got to leave for skate soon, can we just eat? I’m already freaked out enough. Okay?”_ _

__Oliver tentatively sat down, crossing his arms in the manner of an annoyed teen. Mikkel put his head down and tried to keep eating. He really wanted to say something to Oliver, to make it clear that he wasn’t… keeping anything from him or anything. That he was processing._ _

__Or maybe he was keeping it from him. Fuck it. It wasn’t like they were in the best place. And one night together changed absolutely nothing. They hadn’t talked in two weeks. He didn’t owe anyone anything._ _

__*_ _

__Much to Oliver’s disappointment he had to suit up and get ready for skate while Mikkel, much to his disappointment, did not. He was brought into the room they reserved for the talks that the boys jokingly called “Come to Gretzy” talks. This time, however, there were a few pieces of equipment around the room that he didn’t quite recognize and a young woman behind the desk he definitely hadn’t met._ _

__“Dr. Watts,” he hazarded a guess, putting his best smile on._ _

__She smiled back. “And you, of course, are Mikkel Boedker.”_ _

__He gave an honest smile at the closest to proper pronunciation he’d gotten in ages. (And Oliver wasn’t even here for it.) “That would be me.”_ _

__“I’m a fan, I should warn you, but no worries. I am more of your doctor than anything else.”_ _

__Mikkel could feel his muscles tense at the reminder as of why they were there. “About that…”_ _

__“Well, we got your blood tests rushed last night,” she said, taking out a manilla folder and flipping it open. “We ran a battery of tests and upon noting a few lower levels of key vitamins they called me in for a consult… at five in the morning.”_ _

__Mikkel flinched. “... Sorry?”_ _

__She laughed. “Not your fault. Definitely part of the job. But we ran a few more tests and we feel like we’ve run across the diagnosis.”_ _

__He pulled his chair in a little closer to her. She seemed… anxious? Or maybe he was reading her wrong. Either way, _he_ was anxious as hell and would rather get this over with as quickly as possible. Pull the bandaid in one swift motion and all that. _ _

__“We know that the NHL has no legal rights to know your status as a carrier, and hasn’t since the 1994 case Doe v NHL, but I am going to have to ask you, patient to doctor privilege. Are you a carrier?”_ _

__Mikkel's brain blanked out at Doe v NHL and then came back online at the cadence of the question at the end. In Denmark it was still illegal, he thought, but didn’t say. That’s why he’d moved to Sweden to play for the few years before the draft. It wasn’t questioned there. She was staring at him, her head cocked in concern and he knew he had to answer._ _

__“I had the hormone shot,” he blurted. “I’ve gotten it every three years since I was … uh. Active.”_ _

__The Doctor nodded her head and looked down at her paper. “The shot has the possibility of losing it’s effectivity towards the end. When was the last time you had the shot?”_ _

__How the fuck was he supposed to know that? He didn’t have his medical records handy. His brain was running too fast, his thoughts bumping off each other. He did the math, or tried to._ _

__“I’m due for another one in about six months. I get them when I’m home. My doctor, family doctor… He does them.” He also kept Mikkel’s secret the way he’d wanted him to. He didn’t need everyone knowing his body, his choices._ _

__A hand landed on his back and he realized he was hunched over. “Mr. Boedker?” Dr. Watts rubbed gently. He was hyperventilating, possibly why he felt so entirely dizzy. He forced himself to exhale and inhale, doing so in the most rhythmic way possible._ _

__“The only way you’d ask me about my status,” he looked up at her. “Is if there was… if I was…”_ _

__She looked down at him with a nod and a sympathetic smile. “Your HrG levels are those that indicate that you are pregnant. It’s not for sure. But if we mix your symptoms with the levels…”_ _

__“Fan,” he closed his eyes tightly. “Fan fan fan fan fan fan fan.”_ _

__“The team, as well as you I assume, would like to be one hundred percent certain before any decisions made and also before any chance of this getting out.”_ _

___Decisions_ sounded so ominous, but he nodded. Embarrassingly, she put her hand beneath his elbow to help him up, like standing might make him fall down. (Truth be told, he wasn’t feeling steady on his feet.) His mind reeled with images of Oliver’s face, ranging from confusion at best, to absolute disgust at worst. _ _

__They’d never really talked about their statuses, which was probably not the best choice either of them could make. In the long run it was just that he didn’t know what _their_ status was and the idea of telling him something that was that personal was a little nerve wracking, even if they had been living together and exclusive for the better part of three years. _ _

__They just… ran hot and cold. Every summer was a crap shoot, whether he would be seeing him every week or not at all. Oliver seemed to be fine with this and Mikkel had always just told himself he was fine with it too but if they’d made a … Well. If this was something, what did it mean?_ _

__She directed him to a chair that he sat in and was instantly moved to almost laying flat. He looked up at the ceiling, something he’d been doing a lot._ _

__“It really depends on how far along you are,” Dr. Watts was saying, how much did he miss while mixed in his own thoughts. “But we might be able to catch a heartbeat today. If nothing else, if there is a sac there, that should be an indicator of a fetus.”_ _

___Fetus. FETUS. Fetus._ He was pretty sure if he said it enough the word would lose it’s meaning. It had to right? _ _

__She rolled a machine up to them and asked him to unbutton his jeans and ruck his shirt up and he almost made an inappropriate comment but he stopped himself. He _did_ laugh when he caught sight of the OEL that laid over his lower stomach, right where… Right there. He moved them and didn’t tell the doctor why he thought it so funny, even though she gave him an odd look. _ _

__“I warmed this up, but this could still be a little…” she took what looked like an old ketchup tube and squeezed it onto his stomach. It _was_ warm, but instantly cooled and he shuddered a little. She gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I do my best.” _ _

__He stared down at his stomach, not only flat, but still well defined with his six pack, as she put a round sonar wand on it. He was familiar with it from when they looked at his spleen. She shut off the lights and he looked at the machine._ _

__This time, however, something entirely different popped on the screen._ _

__A blob, kind of. Not really. More defined than that. Maybe a curled up mouse? Or a peanut? He couldn’t quite define what it was, just that it _was_ most definitely there. All he could hear was wooshing, loud and pulsing and echoing. She kept moving the wand, pressing downwards in a way that reminded him he hadn’t quite peed before they left the house. He wriggled a little. _ _

__“Sorry,” she smiled at him, the white teeth glinting in the dark light. “It’s actually good that your bladder is full. It’s still a little small to get much off of it beyond the fact that it’s there. Hold on a second.”_ _

__She pressed even harder and he wondered if he was going to pee himself for a second before she lessened just enough and pointed with her free hand. “You see that little flicker?”_ _

__He looked hard at the screen and did, in fact, see a small round flickering thing. It took up about half of the tiny mouse-peanut-blob thing. He nodded._ _

__“That, Mr. Boedker, is your child’s heart beating.”_ _

__He stared at it, looking so hard that his eyes began to hurt. It was… a heart. A heart that was beating. Inside of him. He felt nauseous but not in the way that he might actually puke, it was just so totally overwhelming. He had another heartbeat _inside_ of him. _ _

__“How.. how old is it?” he asked, feeling suddenly rude to be calling the fetus an it._ _

__“Hmmm,” she sighed. “That’s always hard to tell. Let me do some measurement. You can keep watching if you’d like, but this is going to take a minute.”_ _

__She froze the image on the screen, and the little blob stopped with the blinking heart. She lifted the wand off of his stomach and put it back in the holder for it and started to do some measurements with a click screen. She stretched a line from the top to the bottom of the blob and then again from side to side. The screen switched to all numbers based and she tilted her head at the screen. It looked like genuine gibberish to him but she turned to him a moment later._ _

__“You are measuring at about 9 weeks 3 days. This is a guessing game, especially in male pregnancies but it would put your due date at June 9th.”_ _

__Absurdly his brain jumped straight to ‘That’s not a good time, what if we’re in the finals?’ Before he realized if he was to go through with this **he** wasn’t going to be in the finals at all. Or playing again at all, really. _ _

__“I’ve been playing hockey for the entire time,” he blurted out, the realization hitting him. “And drinking. After games. We went out after at least half the games that’s…”_ _

__“That’s fine. You had no way of knowing that you were pregnant. Not that I would recommend you continuing any of those actions from here out if you decide to keep the baby, but you would be amazed at how resilient fetuses can be.”_ _

__He exhaled slowly, leaning back a little and closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and something clicked into place in his brain. There was no “if” in this situation. He was keeping this baby. Even the concept of having made a mistake made his whole body feel impossibly horrible._ _

__“Do you want a picture?” Dr. Watts asked, an odd tone in her voice. “For a keepsake?”_ _

__Mikkel opened his eyes and looked at her. As soon as he saw the smile on her face he got the feeling they were on the same page. He nodded, tightly._ _

__“Can you make a few copies?” he asked softly. He still had no idea what Oliver would say, or anyone else. But he did know that his mamma would want one hands down and possibly Oliver’s mom as well._ _

__She went back to pressing on his stomach and the little image came back up. He let himself stare at it in wonder now, not letting the fear creep up. This was possibly the last moment he would have of being able to enjoy it before all hell broke loose, he needed to savor it._ _

__The fetus twitched._ _

__“Woah, what the hell was that?”_ _

__She laughed. “You think it’s stationary? Just you wait. In a few months you’ll be feeling it move all the time.”_ _

__The wand came off of his stomach and she handed him a few paper towels to wipe off the copious amounts of goo that covered his stomach. He started off gently, aware of the occupant._ _

__Dr. Watts shook her head and reminded him. “Resilient. How do you think this species has made it as far as it has?”_ _

__He blushed and pressed a bit harder as he finally got the last of it off, pulled up his underwear and buttoned up his jeans. When he pulled down his shirt Dr. Watts handed him a series of pictures, all of the same bean shaped picture._ _

__“We’ll need to make your next appointment for about three weeks from now and then we’ll set up the rest. You are going to be marked as high risk, so it’ll be a little more intensive than most pregnancies.”_ _

__He fidgeted with the photos. “High risk?”_ _

__“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “Male pregnancies are inherently high risk. Not to mention the fact that you are an athlete, which means your metabolism is going to go a little wacky for a while. You might find yourself needing to eat a whole lot more than you are used to as your body works off of little reserves to begin with.”_ _

__“But it’s not.. like a bad thing?”_ _

__“I’m not going to lie, this process isn’t exactly easy or without it’s risks but you do get to see your baby a lot more than other patients do and you get to hear the heartbeat a lot. It’s kind of nice. You’ll know them before they come out.”_ _

__He stood up and slid the photos into his wallet before putting them into his back pocket. “Can we keep this between the two of us for now?”_ _

__She gave him a serious look. “Doctor patient privileges, I assure you. The only thing I have to advise you is to be put on injured reserve for the short term if you have decisions to make. I can write you a note, but the training staff already has an inkling.”_ _

__He sighed but nodded, it wasn’t like he was going to be able to play. He just needed some time to think things through, and he couldn’t help but feel like the first person to hear about this should be Oliver, not Tippet. It was only fair._ _

__“I’ll take that note if you don’t mind.”_ _

__She wrote something down and signed it, handing him a script for ‘rest’ that was advised for ‘day to day’. She then handed him a folder that felt like a play book, so heavy and detailed._ _

__“Read through this. It has the lists of do’s and don’t’s. Try and think of any questions before our next meeting and we can go through that then. Do take the rest thing seriously, and drink a lot of water. Even though you might have to pee every half an hour, hydration is very, very key right now.”_ _

__He started out the door. “Okay, thanks.”_ _

__“And Mr. Boedker?”_ _

__He turned back and she gave him a considering look. “Tomorrow if you come in, I’ll have a bottle of male prenatal vitamins. I know you might not want to be seen buying them... but they’re important to start as soon as you can.”_ _

__He nodded._ _

__*_ _

__His car was in the parking lot, and even if the doctor’s appointment had felt like a lifetime it was not nearly as long as morning skate so he made his escape with ease. He knew it was pretty chicken of him to not wait it out for Oliver, especially when he knew Oliver was anxious to know what was going on, but there it was._ _

__He at very least left a note tacked up to his stall saying, “Meet you at home.”_ _

__It gave him time to think, not only in the car ride on the way home but also in the time he spent at home without Oliver. In… well. Oliver’s home. He had to remind himself of that, the usual joke of sugar daddy not feeling that funny now that he thought of it._ _

__Not like money was a genuine fear, it might actually be nice to start from scratch. Find a designer to make a house safe as hell for a kid without having to move around things that were already there. But this place was as much his home as Denmark had been years before. It was where he and Oliver had started, most likely where this baby was _made_ and the whole idea of losing it all made him want to curl up on the couch. _ _

__He made himself a peanut butter sandwich because damn it, peanut butter sounded so freaking good and yeah he hated it in general (especially without jelly or marshmallow) but he _wanted_ it. When he finished one, he had another and sipped on a oversized bottle of water that he figured would be the start of him “hydrating” or whatever. _ _

__He took out the sonogram and stared at it, eyeing it from all different angles like it was a work of art. In some way it kind of was (holy shit he was turning into a sap). It was him and Oliver. Mixed into one tiny little package. Which… was scary and awesome in the _actual meaning_. He was full of awe. _ _

__When the door to the garage opened he nearly jumped out of his skin, stuffing the picture back into his wallet and hiding it away as fast as he could. Which ended up being just as well as Oliver stormed in like a man on a mission._ _

__“You just left? You couldn’t wait for me?”_ _

__Oliver’s hair was wet, like he’d barely let himself step in and out of the shower before getting in the car._ _

__“I figured you’d be a while and I wanted to come home to rest?”_ _

__Oliver collapsed on a seat nearby him. “Sorry. Just. I was anxious, I thought you’d at least wait for me.”_ _

__Mikkel hadn’t really been debating whether he was going to tell Oliver or not, of course he was going to tell him. He just didn’t know how or when. The look on Oliver’s face though made it very clear he didn’t have that large of a window to let the idea settle (like he’d kind of hoped for). He shifted to sitting a little forward, a little closer to Oliver._ _

__“So… did I ever tell you why I moved to Sweden to play?”_ _

__He got a quirked eyebrow and a half smile. “Because my country is obviously superior to yours in hockey?”_ _

__Any other time or place he would take this moment to hit Oliver over the head with a pillow. It was an ongoing joke between the two of them, the quality of one country versus eachother. But it really didn’t feel like the right time to make a joke. He _did_ smile though, as Oliver looked even more anxious that he didn’t give a rebuttal. _ _

__“You know Denmark had some pretty strict rules when I was growing up. About hockey and playing standards.”_ _

__“Playing standards?” Oliver interrupted him. “You are one of the best, what bullshit did they feed you about your quality of play?”_ _

__Mikkel blushed slightly, he wasn’t even sure why. “Thanks O, but that isn’t quite what I was talking about.”_ _

__“Then…?” And Oliver was beginning to look increasingly anxious._ _

__“When I was 12 I was going to start in a new league, so I had to have the standard tests done to make sure I was healthy enough to play. Which I was, ship shape, no worries. Except they wouldn’t let me play… because I was … I **am** a carrier.” _ _

__Oliver’s mouth opened and closed like a dead fish, he shifted back to practically laying on the chair he had been on the edge of previously. “You’re a carrier?”_ _

__“Yeah. And Denmark still thought that that was a no go. My parents didn’t have insane amounts of money but they bribed my doctor and sent me to Sweden, because you don’t have the same laws, you know? It isn’t even tested for.”_ _

__Oliver wouldn’t look at him. “We got tested at school. But it was no big deal, like the vision test when we were little. I got a negative. Kevin did too.”_ _

__“Mads is negative as well,” Mikkel shrugged. He wished Oliver would just _look_ at him. It would make the next part a lot easier. Instead though he couldn’t even get a side glance from him. “So the specialist today, Dr. Watts. She’s an M-OBGYN.” _ _

__Oliver’s eyes finally jerked to meet his, wide and petrified and he felt the peanut butter coming back up. He swallowed a few times around the taste in the back of his throat._ _

__“You’re pregnant?”_ _

__It sounded twice as weird coming from Oliver’s mouth than it had from Dr. Watts. He put his hand in his back pocket and grabbed the one of the pictures to hand to Oliver, but Oliver refused to actually take it at first. He looked at it, eyes squinted, but didn’t even put his hand up to pretend to grab it._ _

__“I’m nine weeks along,” Mikkel tried not to take it personally that Oliver looked green. He hadn’t exactly been prepared for it when he heard about it. Nor did he really think he would have taken it well if the situation was reversed._ _

__“That’s mine?”_ _

__Mikkel’s hand clutched the picture tight enough to crumple it in his hand. That was not something he’d been planning for. They were exclusive. They were _living_ together. Who the fuck else’s baby would this be? _ _

__“Wait, no, I didn’t mean…” Oliver put both hands up. “I just… That’s mine. That is my baby?”_ _

__The second question made it seem a little more like nerves than actual doubt and Mikkel released his tensed hands slightly. He tried to open his mouth but nothing would come out so he just nodded and shoved the picture towards Oliver. He finally took it and started to smooth it out, looking at the picture like he was scanning a play._ _

__“Where is it?”_ _

__Mikkel slowly got up and put his finger where the doctor had pointed it out. He indicated the small black part in the center. “That’s the heart beating.”_ _

__“Fan.”_ _

__He let out a weird choked laugh. “That’s kind of what I said.”_ _

__Oliver looked at the picture for a long time and Mikkel, who usually considered himself a pretty good reader of Oliver, couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. He stood awkwardly in front of him for a while and then went back to sitting down, this time closer on the couch to the chair that Oliver sat on._ _

__After an uncomfortable amount of time Oliver handed the picture back. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”_ _

__Mikkel should be thankful that it was ‘we’ and not ‘you’ but the tone of Oliver’s voice spoke to nothing good. Nor was the fact that Oliver had put both of his hands on his face and was scrubbing them back and forth as if he might be trying to wake himself up._ _

__“I’m keeping it,” he said. Which was the first time he’d actually _said_ it and it felt so entirely true it was a little scary. “I’m going to … I’m going to keep it.” _ _

__Oliver looked at him like he might cry or vomit or do something that Mikkel would regret so he headed him off at the pass._ _

__“I don’t expect anything from you,” he said, the words heavy on his tongue. “If you want to be a part of it, I only expect you to be there for the baby. Once they’re here, there is no take backs though, so think about it. This kid will not grow up with you being half there. That’s not fair to them.”_ _

__“What do you want me to do?” Oliver asked, his voice small and desperate. “Tell me what to do.”_ _

__Mikkel wanted to say, ‘Tell _me_ what to do. I need _you_.’ He wanted to say, ‘Fuck you in the least pleasant way possible.’ He wanted to say… well. He wanted to just beg him to stay with him and to hold him for a while but apparently that was too much to ask from a guy who looked like a horse about to bolt. _ _

__So instead of all the things he wanted to say to him he pushed himself to standing and handed him the picture again. “I’ll let you know if I need anything, I guess.”_ _

__He made it all the way to his room without looking back once and without hearing a word from Oliver. He couldn’t tell what hurt worse._ _

__*_ _

__The next morning he got up early and made himself breakfast (it was the first thing in the book pretty much, DO NOT SKIP MEALS), took a shower and drove down to the stadium by himself. He walked into his locker room and found a small box in his stall that was just labeled ‘vitamins’._ _

__Then he swallowed his pride and walked down to where he knew Tippet was already waiting behind his desk._ _

__“Mikkel?” he looked at his watch. “You’re in early. Especially for someone on IR.”_ _

__“About that,” he said, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway. Tippet pointed out a chair and Mikkel walked in, closed the door and sat down._ _

__Tippet looked concerned. “A bit ominous, son.”_ _

__“You have no idea,” he muttered in Danish. Tippet lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry, sorry, uh. About this Injured Reserve? I know it was said to be day to day, but I will not be coming back this season.”_ _

__It was a lot easier to get out than he’d thought. His stomach stayed pretty settled, and his voice didn’t break once. Tippet, however, seemed to lose the ability to speak. He leaned in towards him and eyed him suspiciously up and down. Looking at him like something was going to call out at him. It was… well. Disconcerting to put it nicely._ _

___Well, you pull off the bandaid all at once,_ he thought. _ _

__“I am a carrier, and pregnant,” he said, fast enough not to be interrupted by questions. “I’ve just found out yesterday, but I am keeping it. Nine weeks along, so I’m due June 9th, which means I’ll have the off season to get back on my game hopefully. But, yes. I can not play and I will not be able to. I’m sorry.”_ _

__“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Tippet said, voice low. “I’ll admit I’m a little shocked. But I figured we had one or two carriers on the team and I’ve got a little experience with losing a member due to pregnancy. It’ll probably even happen again sometime.”_ _

__Mikkel exhaled. “I’m sorry for leaving the team in a lurch, I’m not looking forward to being on the sidelines again.”_ _

__“Well, who knows, maybe we will give your kid a Stanley for his birthday.”_ _

__“Would be a nice gift,” Mikkel said, feeling a little lost. He’d expected a lot more yelling in this circumstance._ _

__“Am I to assume that Oliver is…” he started and Mikkel put a hand up._ _

__“The other father is not necessarily in play.”_ _

__Tippet steepled his fingers. “Need Doaner to shake some sense into him?”_ _

__Mikkel couldn’t help but laugh. “Please don’t.”_ _

__“Well, you know we are a family,” he said. “Do you want to set up a presser or should we wait it out?”_ _

__Mikkel hadn’t exactly thought it out much past telling his Coach and maybe Shane, to be honest. But the idea of the whole world knowing felt a little too much. “I might want to wait a little bit.”_ _

__“Got it,” he nodded. “Wendy was a bit superstitious when it came to Natalie and Nicole. Didn’t tell till she was 14 weeks along.”_ _

__“That… sounds pretty good actually,” Mikkel nodded. He stood up, nothing left to say and reached out to shake Tippet’s hand. “Thank you.”_ _

__“No problem, congrats,” Tippet said, a sort of nostalgic smile on his face. “And kid?”_ _

__Mikkel stopped at the door. “Yeah?”_ _

__“Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”_ _

__“That’s a bit ominous, coach.”_ _

__He could hear Tippet laughing as he walked down the hall, and oddly enough it was pretty comforting. The team was his family, he guessed._ _

__*_ _

__He walked past the locker room and regretted it instantly as about half the team ended up calling out his name. He was hoping, praying really, he would have been in and out long before people were there to suit up for skate but … well. Luck wasn’t in his favor at the moment apparently._ _

__“BOEDDDDS!” Murphy called out as the door swung open. “You back?”_ _

__Mikkel took a deep breath and walked into the locker room with the best smile that he could fake. He was far from ready to make any grand announcement but he might as well tell them it would be a while._ _

__Oliver was there, naturally, because this was his life now._ _

__“Hey guys,” he half waved. The few that hadn’t noticed him by Connor’s call, turned to greet him. (All except Oliver, who was so deep into his locker Mikkel half wondered if he could see Narnia.) “Just here for a visit, I’m still out.”_ _

__Shane seemed to be the only one genuinely worried while most of the guys were torn between annoyed and just whatever about it. People got sick and were out for all of three days. He’d only been out for two, even if it felt like two years. “How long?”_ _

__“I don’t know,” he averted his eyes. Lying was not his best skill and lying to Shane was possibly the hardest next to his mom, something about the fact that he always looked so genuinely interested in every aspect of your life and safety. “Probably a while.”_ _

__This got a rise from some of the team. They were still hurting from Smitty being on long term IR, probably out for whole season. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down while he got a few sets of questions thrown at him all at once. He wasn’t sure what half of them were saying but he knew the answer they all wanted, the one he couldn’t actually give._ _

__“It isn’t my spleen,” he said, when it had died down a little. “Nothing to do with it either. Just something that’s going on, I need to take care of for a while.”_ _

__As soon as the words ‘take care of’ came out of his mouth he instinctively jerked to look at Oliver who had finally looked at him. His mouth gaped open and Mikkel had to resist adding, _Not like that_ , because that would fuck the whole ‘keeping it a secret business’. _ _

__“Don’t you guys have some bag skates to get to or something?” he said, though the joke fell very, very flat._ _

__Connor’s eyes went wide. “Ixnay on the ag-skate-bay, dude. The captain will start getting ideas.”_ _

__“Not my problem, right?” And that felt a whole lot more natural coming out, and even better when Connor punched him in the arm._ _

__“DON’T DO THAT,” Oliver called out from his stall, and Mikkel and Connor turned around to look at him. “I mean… he’s on IR. We need him back sometime.”_ _

__Connor laughed and flexed his biceps. “I’m glad you have faith in my wicked guns, man.”_ _

__“He’s only one,” Tobi muttered._ _

__Connor walked over to where Tobi was lacing his skates and ruffled his hair. “Aww, Tobbbbbs, you wound me, bro. You wound me hard.”_ _

__“Ach, stop it.”_ _

__“Come on, guys, grow up and break it up, time for practice,” Shane said, before Tobi and Connor actually got into some sort of wrestling match._ _

__He paused as he walked by Mikkel and put a hand on his shoulder. “Call me if you need to talk?”_ _

__“Will do,” he said. Though really, he probably wouldn’t. Shane had been weird and squirrely since camp basically and the last thing he needed was a mother hen on him all the time. He knew he would get that enough from Mike._ _

__The other guys filtered past, wobbling on their skates and occasionally saying something at him about hoping he gets better fast or razzing him about needing a break after only a few weeks back on the ice. (Which, actually, kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to let that show.) Oliver walked by, stopped but didn’t say anything. He just kind of looked at him with his pitiful puppy dog eyes._ _

__Mikkel took a little pity on him and leaned in and said through gritted teeth, “I didn’t mean ‘take care of’ like that.”_ _

__Oliver sagged with what might be relief but Mikkel didn’t think that made sense. Twenty four hours ago the guy was all about him ‘taking care of things’._ _

__“Move along O, people to see, places to go,” Martin nudged him and then patted Mikkel. “Dude, don’t be out forever this time, Ollie is bitchy without you.”_ _

__

__*_ _

__The weeks progressed quickly. He had to make a statement to the press, but seeing as they had already had Mike Smith’s announcement, they weren’t as shocked or even that interested. Except for one or two rather tasteless articles that asked if the Coyotes knew what protection was, or warned against drinking the water in Gila River, it wasn’t that noteworthy._ _

__His parents freaked out but after thirty minutes of “Are you kidding? Why aren’t you focusing on your career, you just got out of the injured reserve, Mikkel, this is not a wise idea…” His mother realized that a pregnancy would produce a baby and all hell broke loose._ _

__Within two days a box filled with about a metric ton of baby stuff she’d saved from him, books that she insisted he read, and enough clothing to be considered gratuitous even if he had triplets._ _

__He found himself spending way too much time with Mike, who was about as miserable as him. They commiserate over morning sickness and aching backs, even though Mikkel was barely starting to show. Mikkel didn’t actually ask but he had his suspicions about the whole Shane deal._ _

__When he talked about Oliver, the rare times he let himself do so (he definitely didn’t tell his parents the whole story or his mom _would_ fly out from Denmark), he always felt guilty afterwards. It wasn’t fair to lay that on Mike. Even if it meant that he had to keep his anxiety to himself most days. _ _

__“You know, you could probably move out,” Mike said, one day as Mikkel brought over a bag of Veggie Straws and pita with hummus. “You could move in here. It would give Oliver a kick in the ass.”_ _

__“Pscha, and have Doan start a home for wayward pregnant people? I doubt he’d be so keen on me here.”_ _

__Mike grimaced and then shrugged. “He would actually prefer it. I swear, whenever he goes on a road trip, he thinks about getting me a babysitter. Wives and girlfriends just happen to come over.”_ _

__Mikkel kept to himself the fact that Shane had asked him to check in once or twice. It left him feeling kind of jealous, which was crazy and unfair. (And he would blame hormones if asked.) Mike grimaced again._ _

__“Everything okay?” Mikkel asked finally. “You keep making a weird face.”_ _

__“Yeah, just a twinge in my side.”_ _

__Mikkel frowned but didn’t push. He was already getting annoyed at people treating him like glass, he wouldn’t do that to Mike. Mike would tell him if it was actually something._ _

__He went about the things he liked to do when he was at their house. Made some food, some tea that was supposed to be good for relaxing and was one of the actual teas he was even allowed. (Because apparently, when you are pregnant you are allowed nothing. At least they didn’t take away all of his caffeine. Just… most of it.)_ _

__He’d been to the grocery store that morning and was unloading some of it in the kitchen when he heard the tea cup drop in the other room. At first he was not sure what the noise was but then he heard Mike call out his name at the top of his lungs and his body went into action._ _

__Mike was on a chair, both of his hands gripped tightly to his stomach and his face whiter than snow. Through a clenched jaw he said, “Something’s wrong.”_ _

__Mikkel had come running probably before Mike had finished his name, “What’s wrong?”_ _

__Mike blinked back tears. “I don’t know. I think-” He broke off to bite back another shout, panting through it. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”_ _

__Mikkel’s eyes went so wide, “It’s too early though!”_ _

__Mike cried out again. “I don’t think it matters right now!”_ _

__*_ _

__They got to the hospital as fast as Mike’s car could take them. Even though Mikkel wasn’t sure where it was and Mike’s GPS was a piece of crap, or so Mikkel would claim for the rest of his life, they were in the ER within ten minutes._ _

__Seeing as he’d past the twenty week mark Mike was taken to the maternity/paternity unit and put on a monitor immediately. Mikkel could barely breathe and it was like everything was going tilted._ _

__“Call Shane,” Mike begged him. “You have to get him here. He has to be here, Mikkel. He **has to be here**.”_ _

__He had the number on his speed dial and he was so flustered that as soon as Shane picked up the phone he started to scream in rapid fire Danish, then switched to Swedish because English was beyond him. After a minute of Shane asking him what the hell he was talking about a familiar voice came on the line._ _

__“Mikkel? What is going on?”_ _

__*_ _

__To say Mikkel was shaken was a great big understatement. He was surprised he could make his legs work long enough to get him to the car. Mike was fine, the babies were fine. He had to repeat that to himself as a mantra. He couldn't even concentrate on the feeling of Oliver staring at him._ _

__Oliver, who hours before had spent repeatedly saying his name and comforting him. Who'd called him Meeks for the first time in literal months and who'd held his hand once he got to the hospital. They hadn't talked, which was the same as it had been but without the tension, or at least less of it._ _

__Shane had told him to take Mike's car home, that they'd figure out how to switch them later. It made sense, if anything made sense. Oliver opened the door for him and he didn't comment._ _

__"Are you okay?"_ _

__Mikkel's head jerked towards Oliver. "Huh?"_ _

__"I mean, are you okay? Do you need to eat? You seem pretty pale."_ _

__He took stock of himself. He hadn't eaten when he was at Doan's, had been in the middle of making food when everything went south. After that everything was a total blur. But he put a hand to the swell of his stomach and realized that he was hungry._ _

__"I could eat," he shrugged._ _

__Oliver looked at him anxiously. "What do you want? I could make you something at home? I don't know what we have..."_ _

__"Nothing." He knew because the bag of food he’d bought was on the counter in the Doan's house. He didn't mention that Oliver wasn't known for his cooking._ _

__"Do you have ... Like cravings?"_ _

__Mikkel almost laughed but decided to keep it to himself. This conversation was easily the longest they'd had since he'd told him he was pregnant and they were having a conversation about his cravings. Mikkel wanted to tell Ollie that he might have noticed if he'd paid an ounce of attention but Mikkel was too tired to fight._ _

__"I would kill for some sushi but since that is a no go, maybe we could go to Sumo Maya and I'll eat some of the cooked stuff and look at your food longingly."_ _

__He got a strange look. "Is that a thing?"_ _

__"Watching you eat food? No, Oliver, I was joking. But Sumo Maya sounds good enough. You can take the next exit."_ _

__Oliver was driving oddly carefully so the next exit wasn't that big of a deal. He kept rubbing at his belly, receiving the reassuring feeling every so often of a kick. He'd yet to be able to feel it on the outside but he always tried._ _

__"Is ... _it_... okay?" _ _

__Mikkel wondered why he even cared, but that was the bitter part of his brain again. “Yeah, they’re kicking along.”_ _

__“It… they kick?”_ _

__“Yeah, for a few days now. I felt it while watching the game actually. I read it’s when the heart races, it kind of nudges the kid into action.” Mikkel smiled and rubbed at his belly fondly._ _

__Oliver made a loud ‘hmmm’. “Maybe you shouldn’t come to the games?”_ _

__“WHAT?”_ _

__“Just, if it gets your heart up, could it hurt the baby?”_ _

__Mikkel was truly baffled but chuckled. “Don’t worry, I get the same heartbeat from driving in traffic.” Then stopped Oliver in his tracks. ‘I’m not giving up driving either. Don’t worry. The doctor would have told me if it was an issue. She’s really good in her field.”_ _

__They turned into the parking lot of Sumo Maya, which was pretty empty as it was a random weekday and just past four. “... Maybe I should go with you. Um. Next time.”_ _

__“To the game? O, you realize you are IN the game, right?” he chirped._ _

__Oliver, who’d turned the car off, finally looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “The Doctor’s appointment, Mikkel. I should go to the Doctor’s appointment.”_ _

__“ _Why_?” _ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“Maybe because up until yesterday you couldn’t look me in the eye and I don’t think you’ve been near enough to touch the baby since I TOLD you about it MONTHS ago?”_ _

__Oliver exhaled. “Please let me go?”_ _

__He felt the muscles in his shoulders go tense and almost opened his mouth to spitefully say no. Then he reminded himself of the look on Shane’s face when he walked in the door, the relief in Mike’s eyes. He reminded himself of the feeling of Oliver holding his hand and not letting go._ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__“Okay?”_ _

__“It’s a week from Monday. It’s during morning skate… but I think you can get out of it if you tell Tippet and Shane why.”_ _

__Oliver nodded seriously. “I’ll do it tomorrow. You still hungry?”_ _

__Mikkel opened the door as his answer._ _

__*_ _

__Mikkel couldn’t help but fidget. He hadn’t exactly been eager to have Oliver come to this appointment, even before he remembered that he had to drink a ridiculous amount of water and hold it for the sonogram. Not to mention the fact that his stomach looked hopelessly like the beer gut his coach in the minors had and Oliver would NOT. STOP. STARING. AT. IT._ _

__He was cranky and uncomfortable and Dr. Watts was taking her sweet time getting ready so it wasn’t exactly like it was going by quick enough for his liking. He didn’t want to be the snappy pregnant guy but he was pretty close to rolling his eyes and snapping RIGHT in the Doctor’s face, even though he was totally aware she’d done nothing to get him here._ _

__Finally she squeezed the gel onto the bump and flicked the lights off. Oliver stood up from where he was sitting in a chair and crowded into Mikkel’s side and Mikkel might have actually said something if the image on the screen didn’t pop up._ _

__He sucked in his breath and he could hear Oliver do the same thing. In the 7 weeks since his last appointment the baby had… _grown_. Which, he guessed he should have known as his middle had grown exponentially but the small wiggling barely definable thing from the time before was now most definitely a _baby_ in his _body_ _ _

__“Say hello to your baby, gentleman,” Dr. Watts smiled._ _

__“Hej, min barn,” Oliver whispered._ _

__Mikkel didn’t tear up over that, over Oliver finally really recognizing it was _his_ too, cause that would be stupid. He was tearing up because it was dark and they were looking at his baby, damn it._ _

__“Have you decided whether you want to know the gender?”_ _

__Oliver looked at Mikkel, his eyes suspiciously misty and doe eyed. Mikkel had decided weeks ago he wasn’t going through this pregnancy NOT knowing but he wouldn’t have been able to say no to that face even though he WAS still mad at him._ _

__“Yeah, I did,” Mikkel answered. “Uh… please?”_ _

__She laughed and moved the wand a little bit. “Well, let’s see if you have an agreeable kid. Sometimes they are a little shy… uh. But not this one…” She stopped and the screen showed a splayed set of legs. She rolled around for a second and then paused, hitting a button on the screen and typing something. A moment later the words, “It’s a boy.” popped up with a little arrow pointing at… well. What Mikkel could _then_ see made that apparent. _ _

__He felt Oliver’s hand slip into his and tighten once before slipping away. He heard the small hiccup in Oliver’s breath. His heart was beating so fast he wondered if he could hear it through the sonogram._ _

__A boy. A little boy. A little boy that was not just his but Oliver’s as well. He put his hand to the side of his stomach not currently covered in goo and a wand. “Baby boy.”_ _

__On the screen one of the legs pushed out in a rapid fire kick and he felt it on his palm. He looked at Dr. Watts with wide eyes._ _

__“Just saying hi I guess,” she smiled. “Now let’s see what else we can see.”_ _

__She took them through the rest of it with a running commentary. Got a pretty decent profile shot, one of his hands and his belly. She paused and told them to wait a second, switching to another wand on the machine._ _

__Suddenly the image came up in a weird off yellow color, and in 3D. The baby’s face, just moments ago seeming flat and weird, peaked out. It was rounder and the nose so much more defined._ _

__“Your nose,” Mikkel said to Oliver, his mouth going a little dry. “That’s _your_ nose.” _ _

__Oliver squinted his eyes. “You can’t tell that… can you?”_ _

__“Everybody always focuses on the nose,” Dr. Watts laughed, but pressed a button to freeze frame it for a photo. “For what it’s worth, I think he might have your lips, Mikkel.”_ _

__Mikkel pursed his lips without thinking about it. “You think?”_ _

__She handed him the sheet. “Oh yeah, look at that.”_ _

__So he did, and … didn’t see it. All he could focus on was the little nose and the weird way he could see one of the ears on the side. He couldn’t help looking over at Oliver, who was… crying. Totally and absolutely crying. A part of him wanted to chirp him about it, but that wasn’t where they were anymore._ _

__The doctor went back to work, taking it back to the black and white 3D ones to get some measurements she needed. ( _All normal_ , she offered them, over and over again.) _ _

__“Okay,” she smiled at the two of them and flicked on the lights. Mikkel didn’t hiss at the sudden attack on his eyes but it was a near thing. “You guys seem to have one healthy baby boy in there. He’s measuring just a little behind, maybe a day or two but that’s not uncommon. You go run to the bathroom Mikkel, and then we can actually talk.”_ _

__He took the paper towels offered to him and wiped madly at the goo. He pulled up his underwear and realized, just too late, that he was still wearing his OEL gear (it was stretchy, okay?), he caught sight of Oliver looking at him with this weird dopey smile and he made a point of **not** reacting. _ _

__The office, thankfully, had a bathroom attached and he relieved himself quickly. (He _almost_ forgot to leave a urine sample but caught it in time. Not that he wouldn’t have to pee again before the stupid appointment was over but it was easier getting it all done at once.) _ _

__When he walked back out he caught Oliver leaned over a notebook, writing some things down as Dr. Watts bemusedly talked about different types of fruits and their benefits._ _

__“What the hell?” was the only thing he could think to say._ _

__Oliver looked up and Mikkel could see the blush on the tops of his cheeks. “I asked if it was true about pineapples and she was giving me some tips.”_ _

__“If what was true about pineapples?” Mikkel looked at Dr. Watts. “That’s not on the ‘no list’, I read it like four times.”_ _

__Dr. Watts put a hand up and waved him off. “It’s mostly an old wives tale, but some people think that eating pineapples too much can cause early labor. I was just informing your… friend. That that isn’t really a concern to focus on this early on. You’d have to eat a LOT of pineapples for me to even begin to worry about it. I was then giving him some fruits that were good for fetal development.”_ _

__Mikkel sat down in the free chair in the room and boggled at Oliver, who was continuing his chicken scratch on the paper in front of him. He was doing it so fast and so sloppy there was no way that he was going to be able to read it later, let alone Mikkel._ _

__“Oliver also informed me you are still having trouble with morning sickness? You’re weight gain has been a little slower than I’d prefer…”_ _

__‘ _Really?!_ he thought, he’d been gone for all of two minutes. Tops. And since when had Oliver noticed his morning sickness. He was rarely, if ever, there for it. Jesus, were there cameras?_ _

__“It’s just mainly when I let myself get too hungry,” Mikkel admitted. “And also sometimes before I go to bed at night.”_ _

__Dr. Watts nodded. “Pretty common. For a lot of people it’s about smaller meals throughout the day, but even your smaller meals are going to have to be bigger. Your metabolism is already burning pretty fast as an athlete. Eat as soon as you get up, even if you don’t feel like it. Try milkshakes, hell… eat french fries if they sound good. You need the calories.”_ _

__This was… entirely counter intuitive to everything he’d ever heard in his life. He’d spent so much time trying to balance nutrition with taste. It wasn’t something he would talk about with anybody (well, possibly Mike) but the idea of giving up that last shred of normalcy was terrifying for him. At the same time, he loved this child ( _his son_ ) with all of his heart and would do anything for him, but the loss of control over his body was slowly making him crazy._ _

__“Would protein shakes be good for him?” Oliver asked. “Or should it be better to do shakes with more greens?”_ _

__Mikkel looked over at him. Which Oliver was this? They’d been talking around the baby for _months_ and now he is taking notes like it was a nutrition seminar put on during camp? _ _

__“If you can sneak in some greens that would definitely be ideal, but I would say even just go through McDonald’s on the way home. Up the caloric intake as much as you can between now and next month.”_ _

__“What should we expect in the next few weeks?”_ _

__Dr. Watts looked over at Mikkel and raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a lot of questions, did you give him the book yet?”_ _

__Mikkel released the fist that was balled up at his side, relaxing a little. “I guess I should do that. I didn’t know he was so interested.”_ _

__“Sorry,” Oliver muttered beside him. “I’ve been… a little out of it.”_ _

__“No, no, it’s good to see someone interested,” Dr. Watts offered. “The next few weeks will be a strong period of growth, if you, Mikkel, haven’t felt the baby much yet, you should soon and not too long after other people will be able to feel it as well. You will probably be getting more tired, so I would take at least one short nap a day.”_ _

__He kept to himself that he was averaging two naps a day already._ _

__“I’ve been resting as much as possible,” he said diplomatically. He looked to the side and weighed if he wanted to ask this question with Oliver in the room but shrugged it off. “I’ve been getting these pains… right here.” He indicated the band of muscles on the side of his stomach that had been paining him randomly. “It’s been enough to take my breath away and I have to sit down as soon as possible.”_ _

__Dr. Watts nodded. “That’s called round ligament pains, and is nothing to worry about. It’s your muscles shifting. I’d recommend when it happens to sit down and take it slower. Drink water. It’ll ebb. Have you been taking your vitamins?”_ _

__Mikkel nodded._ _

__“Excellent. Anymore questions for me?”_ _

__He shook his head, and Oliver shrugged._ _

__“Right then, I’ll need to see you in four weeks,” she smiled._ _

__*_ _

__“Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been having pain?” Oliver said, his hands tense on the steering wheel._ _

__‘ _When?_ ’ he thought. ‘ _During our frequent heart to hearts?_ ’ _ _

__“It hasn’t been that big of a deal and you’re usually at work,” he put his hand on the side of the belly that always seemed to ache. “I figured it was just something simple. I asked the doctor and BINGO! Something simple.”_ _

__Oliver bit at his lip, pulling it through his teeth, letting them go and starting the process over again. He was going to crack through them with worry and Mikkel was so ready to just grab his face and make out like teenagers in a movie theater._ _

___Hormones_. _ _

__“You can tell me,” Oliver said, simply, looking over at him. “You should tell me things.”_ _

__Mikkel could feel the need to make out slip slightly. “I _should_ tell you things. Tell me Oliver, when _should_ I? When you come home and barely look at me or maybe all of those times you _don’t_ call from the road? Or maybe when you look at me like I’m a freak, don’t think I don’t catch those moments, you aren’t subtle at all. At which point do you think it sounds like an opportune time to tell you _anything_?” _ _

__Oliver flinched and swiped his hair out of his face and looked over. “I am trying here, okay?”_ _

__“Since when?” Mikkel snapped._ _

__“Since now, okay?” Oliver snapped back. He put a hand out to rest on Mikkel’s tensed fist._ _

__Mikkel didn’t relax at all, in fact he felt kind of like lifting that fist and hitting Oliver in his stupidly pretty jaw line but he resisted. Instead he flexed his hand and took it out of reach from him. Oliver looked over with his huge doe-like sad eyes and Mikkel leaned his head back on the head rest._ _

__“Forgive me if it’s a little hard for me to believe you right now.”_ _

__The car was completely silent for the rest of the ride home._ _

__*_ _

__To say the atmosphere for the rest of the day was a little cold was a vast understatement. He called his mother and father to tell them about the baby was boy, which got even his father to tear up, apparently. He sent them a snapshot of the 3D picture and his mom said that the baby did have his lips, that she also thought he had his ears and that he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. (Then she “subtly” asked how things were going with Oliver, he shut her down with telling her that the due date might change. She didn’t ask again.)_ _

__He was pretty set in his room, but he heard Oliver in the hallway talking rapid fire Swedish at one point and though he understood it fluently it was just muffled enough that most of what he caught was the barest hint of “Mother” and “sorry” and “yes” about two hundred times before it slowed down and lowered to a point that he was almost 100% sure that Oliver was off the phone._ _

__He stepped out of the bedroom, wearing his comfy sleep pants and a shirt he’d bought to specifically avoid his stomach being on show. It was getting weird to wear though, as it slowly stopped being entirely oversized and instead started to be a little tight in the middle. An image of Mike popped in his head and he had to think of something else._ _

___Baby needs to be healthy, healthy means growing a tummy,_ he repeated as a mantra. _ _

__He walked into the living room to find Oliver sitting with his head in his hands._ _

__“Oliver?” Mikkel broke the silence. Oliver looked up at him with distinctly red eyes. No tears, he noted, but maybe there had been recently. “What happened?”_ _

__“I told my family,” he said, voice pitiful enough that Mikkel walked across the room and sat, at a distance, on the couch._ _

__Mikkel put a hand to his side, in a weird attempt to keep any voices from reaching the baby. (Even though he had read those stupid books and voices didn’t really reach the baby for another month or so.) “... Not good?”_ _

__“Not towards…” He waved a hand towards the bump. “I mean, once she stopped saying my full name over and over she wanted to know everything about him. And my dad practically cried when I said it was a him.”_ _

__Mikkel half smiled. “Mine _did_.” _ _

__“She would like a copy of the pictures, if … if that’s okay?”_ _

__He pulled up on his phone the folder he kept all of the baby pictures in, the one from the first appointment labeled “bean”, the last one labeled “humanoid” and the one from today he’d saved as “dude”._ _

__“I’ll send them all to her,” Mikkel said, doing so. He’d had Oliver’s mom’s email from when he was trying to get some incriminating photos a few years ago. He’d thought of sending the old photos before, but maybe it’d been good he’d waited. “I didn’t know they didn’t know.”_ _

__Oliver looked at him with pure fear in his eyes. “I was… I was waiting? For a good time.”_ _

__“Today was that day?” Mikkel said, doubtfully but without the effort of actually being mad. He was too tired now, too exhausted from just being to really rally the anger up._ _

__“Look, I told you I was trying, okay?” Oliver said. “But I might have been not so good at the trying in the recent past. I wanted to tell them, but nothing has felt real until today. It just… I felt like everything was slipping away. We weren’t talking much, if at all…”_ _

__“And that was my choice?” Oliver sagged and wiped at his face again, Mikkel felt instantly horrible. “Look, Ollie. I didn’t mean it that way. I know you’re trying. And I can figure it would be difficult to tell your parents when you don’t even want to think about it yourself.”_ _

__Oliver shook his head. “I was thinking about it _all the time_. It wasn’t something I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t know how to talk about it, okay? It was scary and new. I only really talked about it with Shane…” _ _

__“Shane?”_ _

__“He kind of cornered me a few times after practice and on the road,” he blushed. “He was quite fervent in the fact that I was doing the wrong thing here and that I needed to work on myself before I messed up something big.”_ _

__Mikkel gaped a little. “I didn’t know that.”_ _

__“Yeah, cause I was going to tell you our Captain was giving me the ‘get your act together, you giant fuck up’ speech.”_ _

__“I doubt he meant you’re a fuck up, Ollie.”_ _

__Oliver gave him a look. “You were not privy to the conversations, Meeks. Like. His face was red and he used his hands a _lot_. You would think I brought up Smitty’s butt goal in an interview or something.” _ _

__“Well, huh,” Mikkel looked around. “Mike did say that Shane was being weird about you. I just thought it was because I’m not there to annoy him.”_ _

__“You’ve been talking to Mike?”_ _

__“Who else am I going to talk to about this?” he waved his hand at the baby bulge. “None of the other guys have gone through this side of it.”_ _

__“Fair enough,” Oliver stared at his folded hands. “Though, like… you can talk to me about stuff. I might not know exactly what you are talking about but I can listen. And I’ve been reading books and online stuff.”_ _

__He exhaled slowly and tried to think of what exactly he could say in this situation to avoid a fight. Because, he _really_ was too tired for that. “Okay, I’ll try.” _ _

__“Hwuh?”_ _

__Oliver looked over at him and Mikkel shrugged. “You’re going to try, I’m going to try. I… can’t trust you, Oliver. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to you most of the time. But if you’re going to try I’ll… do that too.”_ _

__Oliver lit up like he’d just scored in overtime, face beaming. Mikkel wondered when the last time he’d made Oliver smile like that, or when the last time Oliver had even smiled like that at someone else. He smiled back, though he knew he was much more tentative than Oliver could be._ _

__“Are you hungry? The doctor said more calories, more meals. What about I make a snack and then we’ll order in dinner, yeah?” He jumped to his feet and was halfway to the kitchen before he looked back. “What do you want? You like peanut butter now…right? I always notice the peanut butter out. Do you want it on toast? Apples?”_ _

__Mikkel didn’t quite blush. “A spoon?”_ _

__Oliver hesitated at the doorway. “What?”_ _

__“This kid is part you, man,” he couldn’t make eye contact, it just was weird. “And all he seems to want is peanut butter. I’ve tried it on everything. Toast is good, waffles are okay but pure peanut butter on a spoon. Nothing better.”_ _

__He pushed himself off the couch, avoiding the noise of struggle but obviously showing it as Oliver _ran_ to help him up. _ _

__“Slow down, O,” he said, even though he was thankful for the hand up. “I’m fine. Just got weird body proportions. Wait till I’m a whale to actually treat me like one.”_ _

__“You aren’t that big,” Oliver protested. “The doctor wants you to gain weight! Mike was like huge by now, wasn’t he?”_ _

__“Two babies, Oliver, two.”_ _

__Oliver blanched a bit. “Two.”_ _

__“Yeah, that’s about it. Even the slight shift of gaining weight though, it’s a bit of a pain…” He put up a hand. “I didn’t mean bad pain. Okay. Slow down. You said peanut butter, don’t tease a pregnant person with cravings, man. Your books have to have said that.”_ _

__Oliver nodded, though he hesitated when Mikkel started to walk forward._ _

__“Dude.”_ _

__Diligently Oliver turned around and headed towards the kitchen._ _

__*_ _

__Mikkel was, to put it lightly, horny. Like, wake up in the middle of the night humping the walls not able to concentrate or relax enough to go back to sleep _horny_. Desperate enough, even, that if Oliver was home he’d say fuck the weirdness and just beg him to get him off type of horny. It was embarrassing. He hadn’t felt that way since he was genuinely 15 and a good stiff breeze of air could get him. _ _

__It was 2:15 in the morning, he’d tried everything and he just couldn’t, nothing was helping him in the least._ _

__Which was why he decided, rationally, he could only do one thing._ _

__The phone rang twice before he heard it click to on and an anxious voice came over the line. “Shit, shit, are you okay? Is the baby okay? Mikkel? Do I need to call 911?”_ _

__“We’re fine… I’m fine,” he started, feeling even more of a blush creep up his face. “Well, mostly.”_ _

__“Mostly?”_ _

__He swallowed around the lump in his throat and licked at his dry lips. “You said you were there to help, right?”_ _

__“I’m in Columbus,” Oliver said, sounding sleep drunk and confused. “What can I do from Columbus?”_ _

__“This is stupid, I ...this is…” Mikkel pinched his nose. “Sorry, Oliver. Good game tomorrow, okay? Or… today.”_ _

__“Stop, what is ridiculous? You know I’ll do anything, come on Meeks,” Oliver sounded so genuine and FUCK that should not be even more of a turn on right now. Hormones are _so weird.__ _

__Mikkel exhaled slowly and tried to think of a way to say ‘I’m so horny I could probably hump a pole if it weren’t for this freaking belly’ in a more polite manner. “I um, I need a _hand_.” _ _

__“I’m in _Columbus_ ,” Oliver repeated. “Fuck, Meeks it’s like almost 5. Use your words?” _ _

__“Not a literal hand, I have one of those,” Mikkel sighed, took a deep deep breath and said as fast as he could. “I just.. hormones are making me so hard it hurts and nothing is helping. Porn is annoying, can’t bring up anything but… your voice is usually pretty good and I **need a hand** ” _ _

__He could hear a deep inhale across the line and then a slight hitch in the exhale. “Oh. _Oh._.” _ _

__“See? Stupid. I’ll let you go. You need sleep…”_ _

__“You couldn’t have done this while I was at home?” Oliver asked, voice suddenly a notch lower._ _

__“Hwuh?”_ _

__“I’ve been itching to get my hands on you since the sonogram and you wait till I am time zones away to give me access to all that skin?”_ _

__The voice, okay, it was Oliver’s _voice_. He felt his skin grow impossibly hotter. He shifted himself from his side to his back, figuring a little time on his back couldn’t be that bad for him. He grabbed at his boxers and pulled them down. “You’re lying, but I’m okay with that. Just keep talking.” _ _

__“Am not,” Oliver continued. “You don’t know what you look like right now. All rounded and hot and … _mine_. Gd, I never got why people thought it was hot when their partners were pregnant but I was wrong. That body, the belly, _mine_. I’ve been so good not going for it, but I just want to pin you against a wall, man.” _ _

__Mikkel’s hand gripped himself tightly, already slick with lotion and sweat. He bucked a little and moaned._ _

__“You even _smell_ better, it’s not even fair. I try and tell myself to respect your space. But everything. I want to lick your collar bones, bite your nipples, kiss every single inch of you.” _ _

__“ **Fan, Ollie** , I want that, too.” _ _

__He heard a moan on the other end of the line and a thump he couldn’t quite place. His hand was working up it’s pace and he was too far gone to even think of what Oliver was doing. He pictured him half naked though, and that definitely helped._ _

__“I want to curl up behind you and feel the roundness of your stomach. I looked up the best ways to do it this far along. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel everything, I want to do all the work. I know you, how you liked it, but I want to know how it’s changed now. Are your nipples even more sensitive? Is that spot behind your ear still the best? It feels like forever since I got my hands on you.”_ _

__Mikkel slipped the phone onto his shoulder and went to try the nipple thing. It’d been awhile since he’d braved touching himself there, after the weeks of it being on the verge of painful but now it was just about the nicest thing he’d ever felt. He bucked up, hard, almost coming but stopping himself at the last second._ _

__“Fuck, Mikkel, did you just try the nipples?”_ _

__“Yeah, so good, so so good,” he panted._ _

__Another thump and Oliver sighed heavily, his voice so deep it was almost too low to hear. “You’ll be the death of me. I’m going to lick them and bite them and … god. You have no idea, Mikkel. Just wait, wait till I get home and I’ll…”_ _

__Mikkel missed the last part as he climaxed, hard, his whole body arching up in one swift move. Even though it hadn’t been that long since he’d gotten off by his own hand he felt like he’d been wrung out. He lay back down and panted for a few long moments. When he felt the cooling cum on his stomach he grabbed for his discarded shirt and swiped at it a few times._ _

__Through the line he heard a series of curse words and then a low groan before silence._ _

__“Still there?” he asked a minute later._ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver answered, voice closer to normal but breathing staggered. “Just. Fuck. I’m… two time zones away. There are still two games on this road trip. So not fair.”_ _

__Mikkel couldn’t help but laugh._ _

__*_ _

__Mikkel woke up hours later to the sudden creeping up sensation of embarrassment, he’d made a cross country booty call. He’d essentially called Oliver for porn reasons only. In the way of slow rebuild of their relationship, it was completely counter-productive but he wasn’t sure that he entirely cared._ _

__He picked up his phone to find he had two texts._ _

__One, from Oliver, was simply a “Good morning” with a smiley face and the other was from Murphs saying “What did you do to Oliver? He’s blushing and giggly at breakfast… wait I don’t want to know. Carry on.”_ _

__His life was officially so far from making sense anymore that he decided to ignore it at least for now._ _

__His belly was rumbling, which could not mean good things. He’d learned the doctor was right. Hunger was his ultimate enemy. And whoever said that morning sickness was just something that stuck with you for the first trimester was a lying liar who lies. He needed to keep his stomach happy or his stomach would literally revolt._ _

__He made a bowl of porridge, heating it in the microwave (which was sacrilege but he was lazy) and ate two spoonfuls of peanut butter in the time it took to cook and then cool down. His phone buzzed and he saw his brother’s name pop up across the screen._ _

__“MAAAAAADS!” he bellowed, like they always did._ _

__“MIIIIIIIIKKKKKELLLL!” he returned. “How goes my knocked up brother?”_ _

__Mikkel rolled his eyes. The only reason he was getting away with calling him that was that he was literally on another continent. Pregnant or not, he could get that dude in a headlock in 10 seconds or less._ _

__“Eh, you know. Eating. Sleeping. Pissing.. Eating. Sleeping. Pissing.”_ _

__“And how is the nephew?”_ _

__“Eh, you know. Eating. Sleeping. Kicking me directly in the bladder.”_ _

__“That’s my boy,” Mads said, like he’d had an ounce to do with it. “I’m going to give him a BMW for his 16th birthday, man. The more torture, the better the features.”_ _

__Mikkel took a bite of the porridge and swallowed. “You are such a jackass. You know, you are going to end up with kids someday, turnabout is fair play.”_ _

__“Maybe I will, probably I won’t. I’m a bachelor dude, who needs a baby to weigh you down?”_ _

__He would not let his brother raise his hackles just because he knew he could. He put down his spoon and pointed out. “I’m a bachelor too, you know. Just one with baggage.”_ _

__“Bull fucking shit, Mikkel. Even if you aren’t with Oliver, you are _with_ Oliver. I mean, I want to punch him in the stupid Swedish face for being a jerk to you, don’t get me wrong, but you are all up in his shit. It’s pathetic. Don’t lie to me.” _ _

__Mikkel exhaled. “Well, we are … uh. Trying. I guess.”_ _

__“Since when?!”_ _

__“Since a little while. He wants to be here. To help or whatever.”_ _

__“Fucking right,” Mads said, and he could practically hear the fist pump. “I really didn’t want to have to fly to America and kick the boy’s ass. So when’s the wedding?”_ _

__He groaned. “That is not even in the back of any of our minds, Mads. He said he wanted to be here for the kid. The other stuff is … complicated. I’m not exactly at my best here. I look like a whale and cry like mom watching ‘Marley and Me’.”_ _

__After a full two minutes of his brother laughing at the idea of either him crying or the memory of his mother’s racking sobs (that had come back for DAYS after the film ended), Mads exhaled. “Ah man, thanks for that image. That’s gold. Can you send me a picture of you all beached whale? It would really brighten my team’s day, man. Like,best road trip pick me up ever.”_ _

__“No and shut up.”_ _

__“Ooo, mood swing.”_ _

__“Next time I see you you are getting a punch to the face, and I say face if you are _lucky_.” _ _

__Mads laughed. “Mikkel, you know I’m just giving you shit. Get over it. You’re growing my nephew there. Of course you aren’t going to have your greek god physique for a few months. Knowing you it will be back in three months after the baby is born and no one will notice. Oliver probably still worships you and oh holy fuck, I can’t believe I am talking my brother through hormones, this is just too weird.”_ _

__Mikkel looked down at his exposed belly. “You’re telling me.”_ _

__*_ _

__A few days later found Mikkel pacing the foyer. He was thinking he would go to meet the airplane, but even spouses rarely did that. It was late, he really should be asleep but his brain has been so focused on Oliver as of late, that the last thing he could think to do was lie down. They'd talked once since the middle of the night phone call, just a quick check in. Mostly they'd text._ _

__He heard the car in the driveway and was too anxious to really think correctly, so he opened the door and walked straight out, in just his boxers and a thin stretched out shirt. He was still Norwegian, damn it, so the weather should be down right warm at 16 degrees celsius but he shivered none the less._ _

__Oliver got out of his car and instantly started to berate him in Swedish. “Are you kidding? It’s cold, get inside!”_ _

__“Come here!” Mikkel called back._ _

__Oliver muttered under his breath, something that Mikkel was probably glad he couldn’t hear and took long strides towards him, still in his game day suit and looking damn near delectable. Mikkel mentally braced himself._ _

__He watched as Oliver took off his jacket and swung it around him, like they were some high school couple and he was getting pinned. He laughed a little. He didn’t laugh, however, when he realized it wasn’t large enough to even touch the roundness of his belly and couldn’t quite make it to his belly button. He could see Oliver was aware of this._ _

__“It’s going to get bigger,” he pointed out, like some sort of test._ _

__Oliver reached a hand out and tentatively splayed it on the belly. “It better, I want him to grow as much as he needs.”_ _

__Mikkel went to make a retort but Oliver met his lips with a fierce kiss._ _

__“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve been wanting to do that since you called me.”_ _

__Mikkel huffed a laugh and could see the warm air escape his mouth. “Why do you think I called you?”_ _

__“My sexy voice apparently,” Oliver smiled, and kissed him again. “Can we please go in? I can’t see you cold like this.”_ _

__He nodded, if only because his chest was starting to hurt, a fun little side effect of over sensitive nipples. He turned around and walked back inside, making sure that Oliver followed him and didn’t go back towards his car. Thankfully he didn’t._ _

__“I’m sorry that I didn’t react better than I did,” Oliver said before Mikkel could even turn around. They’d barely made it to the living room. Mikkel froze for a moment and turned around to see Oliver standing there looking like he was genuinely scared of what Mikkel might say. Which… he could be. He should have been, probably, all the way up until a few days ago._ _

__“I’m sorry about that, too,” Mikkel said slowly, measuredly. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you time to process it.”_ _

__Oliver shook his head. “You didn’t need to give me time to do anything. You were in the same boat. Hell, you were in a scarier part of the boat. You had no choice but to accept it. I was the chicken hiding out hoping things would go back to normal.”_ _

__That actually did sting, the weird pulsing pain in his chest that reminded him of when MIke had been in the hospital. “You wanted it to go away? You wanted _him_ to …” He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t. HIs hand landed on the bump. _ _

__Oliver was suddenly in his space shaking his head violently, “No. No. No. No. Not go away. I just… I wished I could click my heels three times, like Dorothy or something.”_ _

__“Dorothy,” Mikkel scoffed. “How you ever planned to stay in the closet is beyond me.”_ _

__“I’ll have you know it’s a good movie, that our son will watch many times.” Oliver put both hands on the belly. The hugeness of his hands dwarfing the size slightly, which was actually kind of nice. He rubbed a little and then dropped to his knees to give a few simple kisses to the sides._ _

___Hormones_ Mikkel repeated when his eyes watered. Because any other time he’d be teasing Oliver so hard for this but … yes. _Hormones.__ _

__Oliver stood back up and gave Mikkel a long sweet kiss. “And then Mike… well. He almost lost the girls. And Shane had been telling me for weeks that I would live to regret it if I didn’t do something as soon as possible, but I kept thinking he was wrong. But he was right. I can’t believe the time I wasted being scared. You were alone. You were scared, just like me, but you had to face it._ _

__“And then the sonogram. Seeing the face. My nose, Mikkel, he has my nose.”_ _

__Mikkel was so busy staring at Oliver and that stupid nose that he couldn’t respond._ _

__“And I was missing all of it,” Oliver continued. “You had every right to push me away. Far far far away. But I couldn’t stay away, you know? I had to come back. I would fight to come back, fight for our family. The phone call the other day. You want it too, yeah?”_ _

__Mikkel nodded. It’d been there, just right there for days and he had a whole speech set up for it, but fuck it. Oliver had made the speech for him. It was kind of ironic, all the times he spoke for Ollie, and this being the one time Ollie spoke for him._ _

__*  
The baby was sitting directly on Mikkel’s bladder, so his sympathy level was pretty much non-existent as Oliver twitched in the driver seat. They’d been saying and saying that they were going over to the Smith-Doan’s for almost a week but Oliver had pretty much talked them out of it every day. _ _

__He refused to let Mikkel go to the hospital, because that would mean he’d be exposed to sick people and he couldn’t fight an illness. Which, to be fair, Mikkel AND Mike backed him up on._ _

__Then it was a couple days of games that put him off from going because he needed to nap in the afternoon and since Doan was a little off his game Oliver insisted he had to step up his game to help out… which Mikkel could see was weighing on Oliver’s shoulders so he didn’t fight it._ _

__It was the moment that Oliver said he thought he might have a cold forming that Mikkel called formal bullshit and so when Mike called to ask if they were coming over he said an adamant hell yes. He knew Oliver was anxious, but it wasn’t like he was going to be able to avoid it forever so he wasn’t taking the bullshit any longer._ _

__“It’s like a band-aid,” Mikkel said, for what had to be the 15th time since they got in the car. “You rip it off and it hurts less. The babies are not going to bite you, they don’t even have teeth.”_ _

__Oliver turned to glare at him for a single second before focusing back on the road. “I’ve held babies before. I’m not scared.”_ _

__“Look at your knuckles, Oliver.”_ _

__Oliver’s knuckles, completely white with their grip on the wheel, eased slightly. “Fan... I just. I’ve not been around babies since I knew about _our_ baby. What if I do this wrong?” _ _

__“Well, Shane’s got a hard head, I’m sure if you drop one they’ll barely notice,” Mikkel turned away to hide his smile and turned back just in time to see the true look of horror on Oliver’s face. “Oliver, you are not going to drop the baby. You will be seated. Chill out.”_ _

__Their son rolled over and kicked out, hitting his ribcage._ _

__“Oof,” he sighed. “Someone’s pretty psyched about this meet and greet. Or else he’s trying to claw his way out of my body through my ribcage and/or bladder.”_ _

__“You peed before we left,” Oliver pointed out. “You CAN’T have to pee again.”_ _

__“And the next time you’re holding a human being four inches from your bladder I will let you in on the secret of that mattering,” Mikkel snapped. “Can you just get to the freaking house?”_ _

__Oliver turned down the street and Mikkel saw sweet sweet salvation in the form of a familiar house. He swore he would never understand how Mike could do this with two. He felt like a full house and he had _months_ left. _ _

__They stopped in front of the house and Oliver ran around the car, just giving Mikkel enough time to open the door before he was at his side. He reminded himself that it was endearing NOT annoying, and that a few months ago he would have killed for this._ _

__Plus, fuck, the leverage was kind of nice._ _

__He went to grab at the bag of clothing and stuffed animals they’d brought with them but Oliver cut him off._ _

___Endearing_ , he thought. _Super freaking endearing._._ _

__He walked towards the front door with the best speed he could go with. (He was slowing down more and more each day, it was completely embarrassing.) Even though he knew Oliver would have out walk him had he even half-tried, it felt good to make it to the door first. Then, though, he hesitated. Should he knock? Door bell? Call?_ _

__He felt a knot of anxiety before the door opened for him, a smiling Shane greeting him._ _

__“Were you waiting for us?” Oliver asked._ _

__“Heard your car come up, I think Mikey might actually kill you if you woke them up right now.”_ _

__After a quick round of awkward guy hugs and Shane _rubbing his stomach, what the fuck_ , Mikkel asked for the bathroom. Thankfully it wasn’t far away, because apparently his son was a defenseman and was going all out against his bladder. _ _

__He relieved himself and exited the small bathroom to find the three men in the living room focused on two Moses baskets._ _

__Oliver, hilariously, had his hands behind his back. It was hormones, he told himself, that made him feel tears at that. Because, come on, it was just hands folded behind his back, but… he was so nervous it made Mikkel ache in a good way._ _

__“Should you be standing?” Mikkel asked Mike, who immediately turned a glare on him. “You just had a surgery…”_ _

__“You are supposed to be on my side,” Mike frowned._ _

__Mikkel put his hands up. “O didn’t let me lift my arms after the spleen thing.”_ _

__Shane glared at Mike, who completely ignored him. “Sit, I’ll hand you off one of the terrors.”_ _

__Mikkel tried not to hesitate too much, trying to remind himself that he was going to have one of his own soon and that he was being ridiculous. Besides, at least one of the parents had to be ready for this, and as Oliver currently looked like he was three seconds from puking there was no chance it’d be him._ _

__He sat in the chair that looked least likely to make getting up an embarrassment. He wasn’t far enough along for it to be anything too bad, but Dr. Watts had politely told him his hips weren’t really made for this so he would have a bit more of an adventure than most._ _

__Mike gently picked up a tiny pink blanket and walked towards him with it, while Shane did the same to an ever increasingly uncomfortable Oliver. The fact was, though, the second he got the baby in sight the anxiety of Oliver slid away._ _

__“She’s beautiful,” he exhaled, and suddenly she was in his arms. She was fast asleep, her lips curled into what looked like a smile. “They don’t smile this young.”_ _

__“Gas,” Mike laughed._ _

__Simultaneously Shane declared. “Advanced for her age, of course.”_ _

__Mike rolled his eyes and mouthed _gas_ , which got Mikkel laughing. The baby was laying directly on his bump, which was a little awkward but he was too fascinated to move her. _ _

__“Which one is this?”_ _

__From across the room he heard a loud wail and looked over to find Oliver awkwardly holding the blanket, half football but more so like a loaf of bread. The baby was so very not pleased that she she was making it known in all forms, wiggling, screaming and kicking her feet up and out of the wrapped blanket._ _

__“Fan, wait. Sorry,” Oliver talked directly to the baby’s face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”_ _

__The baby was _not okay_._ _

__Shane was laughing so hard behind Oliver that he was officially silent and near tears. Mike turned back to Mikkel and pointed back at Oliver._ _

__“That is Anna,” he grinned. “You’ve got Alexa.”_ _

__Alexa couldn’t be bothered with her sister’s, frankly impressive, wails. She had curled herself up against Mikkel’s chest, at peace. She seemed to like the bump, actually, curved up and warm. His heart ached, but in a good way._ _

__“Mike, she’s amazing,” he said, taking a finger and lifting one of her tiny hands to look through at the absolutely miniscule nails. Which, he noted, had paint on one of them. “What’s this?”_ _

__Mike shrugged. “They recommended it at the hospital, to keep it clear who is who at first.”_ _

__The room was quieter and Mikkel looked at where Shane was finally moving the baby… Anna… into a more comfortable position. Oliver honestly looked like he could cry too, which left Mikkel with a lot of feelings. Instead, though, he was so focused on listening to the instructions from Shane, it seemed like they were going over a drill._ _

__His heart beat faster, the image of that being their child, their _son_ , making all of his hormones rise up into the back of his throat._ _

__“You okay there, Meeks?” Mike teased._ _

__Before he could answer though, a swift kick came up and butted against where Alexa had been peacefully resting. One of her eyes opened and she shifted uncomfortably, mouth opening to let out a single loud wail of disapproval before settling for glaring at him like he was the one who did it._ _

__“Sorry for waking you, Princess Alexa,” he whispered in Danish but continued in English. “Your friend was just saying hello.”_ _

__Shane looked at him from across the room. “Your kid is ALREADY beating my kid up?”_ _

__“Somehow I doubt their kid stands a chance with these two bruisers,” Mike pointed out. “She has Shane’s glare, can you see it?”_ _

__Mikkel could see it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say it. He knew his Captain a little too well to even begin to say that kind of stuff around him._ _

__“Don’t worry, I think that was just a hello kick, Cap,” Mikkel said instead. “Either that or a ‘what is this pressure, I’m the one supposed to make others uncomfortable’ kick.”_ _

__Mike had finally sat down, putting his feet up on a nearby couch. “Not going to miss that. Did you know I don’t have to pee every forty five minutes? It’s a freaking blessing unlike any other.”_ _

__“Sure, rub it in,” Mikkel grumbled, but there was little heat. He was too fascinated by the fact that Alexa still seemed to be looking at him with one eye, sizing him up. He almost wanted to ask what the hell she was thinking, but he knew that was as crazy outside of his head as it was inside._ _

__He rubbed her tiny knuckles some more and she started to wiggle a little in his arms, turning her head towards his chest._ _

__“Rooting?” Shane asked, still across the room. Mike ducked his head back._ _

__“How the hell do you get that from across the room?”_ _

__Shane beamed. “Well, her sister is attacking Oliver’s nipples…”_ _

__“There is nothing there,” Oliver said, but it was extremely apologetic, like the kid knew he was failing her already._ _

__“Nothing here either, O,” Mikkel reassured him._ _

__A look passed between Mike and Shane and it was like all the conversations his parents had had over his and Mads’ heads all over again. Shane turned towards the kitchen and Mikkel turned towards Mike._ _

__“Does the silent married conversation thing kick in with the afterbirth?”_ _

__Mike rolled his eyes. “Eh. It’s easier not to talk. Takes up energy.”_ _

__Mikkel deliberately avoided the sleep question, he was going to try and live in the delusional world of pre-parenthood for as long as his mind would allow it. Thankfully Oliver was too distracted trying to keep Anna calmed down to even notice the comment. He had a finger in her mouth, which pacified her slightly, but every few seconds she gave a wail of disapproval._ _

__When Shane walked back in with two bottles, Mikkel sagged slightly with relief, ready to give the baby back to Mike. But when he made movement to do so Mike shook his head._ _

__“Practice, man, practice.”_ _

__He was half sure he hated the man, but two minutes later with a satisfied baby sucking slowly on her bottle and looking up at him with huge wide eyes he lost track of why he’d hated him in the first place._ _

__*_ _

__By the time they got home from visiting with Shane and Mike (and the girls), Mikkel could feel himself having a little bit of a freak out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t understood the whole concept of the baby at the end of this. He’d clearly seen the growth progressing through pictures and through his own massive growth… but a **baby**. _ _

__“They were really tiny,” Oliver observed, a little too casual._ _

__“Twins,” Mikkel offered distractedly. “They were going to be smaller than one kid, you know?”_ _

__Oliver came around and circled him from the back. It was still new to them, switching the way they’d always done it. Their heights weren’t much of a concern but Mikkel had always been the one to cuddle Ollie, the feeling of being cuddled was a little odd. He put his hand on the swell of Mikkel’s belly and rubbed slightly._ _

__“I get the feeling _he_ will still feel pretty tiny.” _ _

__Mikkel stiffened slightly._ _

__“You okay?” Oliver pulled him around slightly to look him in the eye._ _

__“What the hell are we doing? A kid, Ollie. There is going to be a kid.”_ _

__Oliver ducked his head against Mikkel’s shoulder and for a second Mikkel had no idea what was going on, until of course he felt the shaking of silent laughter. He shoved at Oliver, pretty damn hard._ _

__“Shut up, this isn’t funny.”_ _

__“This is hilarious,” Oliver corrected him. “You brought me over to see babies to calm ME down and it freaked YOU out.”_ _

__Mikkel sagged a little bit, and laughed. Okay, it was _kind of funny_. “You aren’t freaked out?” _ _

__“Are you kidding? I’m pissing myself. I couldn’t get Anna to quiet down to save my life. I think that a week old baby might _actually_ have a vendetta against me and I’m pretty sure Shane started it, but… “_ _

__He looked at Oliver for a long moment, but Oliver’s eyes were firmly on the bump, his hand back to rubbing slowly. “But what?”_ _

__“She had Shane’s glare, Meeks,” he looked up at Mikkel. “And this baby might have your smile. Or my eyes. Or, god, your laugh.”_ _

__“What’s wrong with my laugh?”_ _

__Oliver kissed him, lightly. “Nothing. That’s the point. This kid is going to be us. Isn’t that awesome?”_ _

__And fuck, Mikkel was in love with Oliver. He was completely gone._ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__Oliver smiled at him. “I love you, too.”_ _

__Mikkel kissed him like it was the first time, the bump pressing between them. It was crazy and weird but his anxiety had ebbed just enough to let him enjoy the moment. The baby kicked at the pressure and Oliver pulled back to laugh._ _

__“Besides, no going back now I guess.”_ _

__*_ _

__The season goes by too fast, even if it feels like the pregnancy might never end. They make it to the playoffs, even go to the second round, but fall short against the Stars. It saves them in the long run though, because the baby decides to come a whole two weeks before his due date._ _

__Mikkel was trying his best not to break Oliver’s hand. He wasn’t even in pain at the moment, which, thank fuck. He thought he was literally about to split in half when the labor started. Middle of the night, of course, right when Oliver had finally managed to get to bed._ _

__(Mikkel had given up on getting any sleep the last week or so of the pregnancy, he would just pass out sitting on the lazy chair bought for that purpose.)_ _

__He’d let him sleep as long as he could before he couldn’t freaking take it anymore, which was a valiant 4 hours that he was going to hold over Ollie’s head for years. Then they’d sped to the hospital in a way Mikkel had never seen Oliver dare to drive._ _

__A blessed hour later they had him with a spinal, and he could feel almost nothing below his chest. It was … weird. But a delicious break from the ever increasing feeling of a human trying to escape his body._ _

__The thing was, a _human_ was trying to _escape his body_ , and with the aide of Dr. Watts and the medical staff surrounding him… was going to succeed. He kept looking at Oliver who would occasionally look back at him with an encouraging smile and he just wanted to yell, ‘We’re not ready!’ or say rationally ‘Let’s just go home now, okay? Maybe the labor was fake. It could have been fake.’_ _

__But he felt this weird tugging sensation in the middle of his body, like his organs were being moved. ( _They are_ , he reminded himself.) Another minute of weird noises and then Oliver let out the weirdest noise, like a choking laugh and a cry and… he looked kind of pale. Mikkel squeezed his hand harder. _ _

__“You are not passing out on me, fucker.”_ _

__“It’s a boy!” Dr. Watts said and suddenly he was looking up over the blue cloth to see a purple squirming mess, mouth wide open in a silent scream. “You want to cut the cord, Mr. Ekman-Larsson?”_ _

__Oliver tugged on Mikkel’s hand and looked at him in horror. “Do I?”_ _

__“Yes, yes you do. DO it,” Mikkel nudged him. “Then… bring him to me. Okay?”_ _

__He was alone again, behind the blue curtain, and he could feel the tears streaming down his face, but in the best way possible. A nurse came by to release his arms from the bands that kept them down and he wiped at his face._ _

__“Don’t worry, it’s mostly adrenaline,” she assured him. But really he could care less. He heard a cry from behind him and then Oliver was back._ _

__“Where is he?”_ _

__Oliver sat down shakily on the chair they had provided for him. “Quick clean up, they’ll be back quickly, promise.”_ _

__“What does he look like?” He tried to get up but… he couldn’t feel below his chest line and immediately he heard the doctor chastise him._ _

__“He’s got so much hair, Mikkel, so much,” Oliver said. “And it’s blonde. Like Mads blonde.”_ _

__Mikkel laughed, a little hysterically, and flopped his head back. Heaven help them if the baby is anything like Mads. What felt like an eternity later but couldn’t have been that long as Oliver hadn’t opened his mouth again, a woman came up with a tiny white blanket striped blue and pink._ _

__“Does he have a name yet?” she asked._ _

__They looked at one another and then at the baby. Truth be told they’d narrowed it down to about four names, fighting the whole time but the second he set eyes upon him Mikkel knew the one that was going to stick._ _

__“Sebastian.”_ _

__Oliver laughed, he’d been the one fighting for that for the last two months. Mikkel was fine with him winning._ _

__“Say hello Sebastian,” the nurse shifted him slightly and lay him down on the top of Mikkel’s chest. Oliver was instantly on his feet and helping to hold him, which was nice as Mikkel didn’t have full confidence left in his extremities._ _

__He did have the craziest blonde hair, thick and pulled into a weird twirling poof. Only one of his eyes was fully open and it was jet black, but he knew that eye color changed rapidly at first. “Hey Sebastian, happy birthday. Good job.”_ _

__He could feel Oliver’s nose under his ear and the snort of breath. “You dork. You did all the work.”_ _

__“I’m sure it wasn’t his finest day.” Mikkel looked at Oliver. “He was pretty comfortable kicking the shit out of my lungs.”_ _

__“Language!” Oliver chastised, making them both laugh and Sebastian let out a wailing cry. “Sorry, sorry Bastian.”_ _

__A nurse came over and looked at Mikkel apologetically. “We still have some stuff to … take care of before you can go back to your room. Would you like your husband to go back and do the first feeding?”_ _

__He didn’t correct the husband bit, and even though he didn’t want either to leave he nodded at her._ _

__“Are you sure?” Oliver asked._ _

__“Yes, but take your shirt off before you feed him,” Mikkel said, still trying to take the last moments to memorize the baby’s face. He looked over to see Oliver kind of gaping at him. “Kangaroo him, like I told you. Skin to skin?”_ _

__Oliver nodded but looked dubious and the nurse who took Sebastian gave him a quick, “I’ll show him.” which was nice to know._ _

__He watched them walk off and lay his head back._ _

__Just a few minutes and he’d be back to his family._ _

  
_"somehow our whole lives have changed, yet everything remains the same. come down and stay. this love is bigger than us."_ -lennon sloane

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this fic spent it's entirety called "sly_fck incentive fic" because I needed her to write me Mike/Shane mpreg. Then it became 23k. So you know, that happened. 
> 
> I couldn't have written this without sly_fck, saxifndomck, freetobelaynie and deanspikachu. 
> 
> deanspikachu was not only a beta, but an AMAZING BETA. She did it SO fast I thought I was going crazy. It was 20k at that point and she had it read through in one day, noting a ton of crazy mistakes and plot holes. She was so so sweet as well. 
> 
> sly_fck is LITERALLY the reason I wrote this. Also, she held my hand a lot lot lot. 
> 
> saxifndomck and freetobelaynie held my hand and didn't make fun of me much if at all... so like. They deserve kudos. <3


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